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Book_ 



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COraRIGKT DEPOSIT. 



What the War Has 
Taught Us 



By 

CHARLES EDWARD JEFFERSON 

Pastor of the Broadway Tabernacle 
New York 




New York Chicago 

Fleming H. Revell Company 



London 



AND 



Edinburgh 



Copyright, 1919, by 
FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 






ufci, -5 /9|9 



New York : 1 58 Fifth Aveiiae 
Chicago : 1 7 North Waba:h A 'e. 
London : 2 1 Paternoster Square 
Edinburgh : 75 Princes Street 



©CI.A5a68 50 



Preface 

THE substance of the chapters contained 
in this volume was delivered in the 
form of sermons in the Broadway 
Tabernacle, New York City, on the Sunday 
evenings extending from the first of January to 
Easter in the year 1919. In the month of Feb- 
ruary, 1916, over a year before the United 
States decided to enter the war, the Pastor of 
the Tabernacle had delivered at the Ohio 
Wesleyan University, Delaware, Ohio, a course 
of five lectures on " What the War is Teach- 
ing." These lectures appeared at once in book 
form, but as that volume is now out of print, the 
author has incorporated in this new book sev- 
eral paragraphs of the Delaware lectures. 

The standpoint of the author is from first to 
last that of the Christian minister. He looks at 
everything through the eyes of a preacher, and 
searches all experience for fresh revelations of 
God. He is not an expert in the science and art 
of war, and many lessons of high interest to 
military and naval strategists are completely 
ignored in these chapters. Nor is he learned in 

5 



6 PEEFACE 

physical science. The scientific specialist can 
walk over the battle-fields on the land and on 
the sea and in the air, picking up valuable les- 
sons at every step, but many of these lessons 
do not concern the preacher. 

The war has taught the world a wide variety 
of lessons which will engage the attention of 
political economists and statesmen and educa- 
tors and sociologists for many years to come. 
Most of those lessons do not fall within the 
scope of the author's purpose. It is the spiri- 
tual interpretation of the war which interests 
him supremely, and it is the religious lessons of 
the war upon which he fastens his attention. 
The war did not teach us anything new in re- 
ligion, but it forced upon the public mind va- 
rious religious truths and principles which in 
days of peace are too commonly overlooked by 
large classes of our people. War is vigorously 
stimulating. War vitalizes all the faculties of 
the mind, and arouses all the energies of the 
heart. War makes demands on the latent 
forces of the soul, and drives individuals and 
groups of men into forms of conduct to which 
they have hitherto been strangers. War com- 
pels men and women to live not only more in- 
tensely, but at deeper depths of their being than 
in ordinary days, and the consequence is that 
many of the laws of life flash out then with a 
new significance, and men see the virtue of va- 



PEEFACE 7 

rious principles whose operations had been 
previously unnoticed. 

At many points the war illustrated most re- 
markably the truths which are written in the 
New Testament. ]\Iany men who had never 
before been interested in that book desired now 
to read it, and those who had read it for many 
years, found its pages becoming thrillingly vivid 
when read in the glare of the great conflagra- 
tion. Paragraphs which had been dull, now be- 
came vivid, and truths which had made a feeble 
appeal to the imagination, now gripped both the 
understanding and the conscience. 

This volume attempts to set forth a few of the 
lessons which the war has forced upon the 
minds of those whose work is the upbuilding of 
Christian character, and who are in the habit 
of thinking earnestly on the laws and processes 
of moral life. The war has supplied the 
Christian Church with new arguments for those 
who ask a reason for the faith that is in her. 
It has furnished graphic and piercing illustra- 
tions of the fundamental truths which Jesus 
taught. It has confirmed faith in the validity 
of the principles which lie at the foundation of 
the Christian philosophy. It has poured a flood 
of light into corners which to many minds were 
dark, and has lifted to glorious prominence the 
central idea of the Christian religion — sacri- 
ficial service. The whole experience of the war 



8 PREFACE 

is an illuminating commentary on the Gospels. 
A diligent reader of recent history finds at every 
step proofs that what Jesus and the apostles 
said of the human heart is true. It is now more 
clearly evident than ever before, that Peter's 
declaration to the City of Jerusalem concerning 
Jesus Christ, was the word of soberness and 
truth : " There is no other name under heaven, 
that is given among men, wherein we must be 
saved." 

C. E. J. 
Nczv York City, 



Contents 

I. The Mind's Thirst FOR God . , ii 

II. The Hunger of the Heart for 

Christ 22 

III. The Naturalness of Prayer . . 34 

IV. The Power of P'aith ... 46 

V. The Joy of Service ... 58 

VI. The Necessity of Sacrifice . . 71 
Vn. The Majesty of the Common Man . 84 

VIII. The Conquering Strength of Com- 

radeship 96 

IX. The Open Road to Christian Unity 108 

X. The Potency of Words . . . 1 20 

XI. The Range OF the Possible . .132 

XII. The Might of the Spirit . . 145 

XIII. The Handicap of Weights . -157 
XIV The Ugliness of Sin . . .169 

XV. The Mischief-Working Power of 

Alcohol 182 

XVI. The Certainty of Harvest . . 195 

XVII. A Too Late 207 

XVIII. The Place of Death . . . 220 

XIX. The Progressive Brutality of War 233 

XX. The Indispensableness of Chris- 

tianity 246 



THE MIND'S THIRST FOR GOD 

IT is significant that when the great storm 
broke on the world in 1914, the first ques- 
tion which pushed its way to the Hps was, 
"Why does God permit this?" It was asked 
by the profoundly religious, and it was asked 
also by men who made no profession of religion. 
Churchgoers asked it, and men who held aloof 
from churches asked it with equal eagerness. 
Even confirmed skeptics asked it. All at once 
everybody seemed to become theological in his 
thinking. 

We had been living in a Scientific age. 
Science deals with second causes. It is inter- 
ested in gravitation, heat, light, electricity. Its 
domain is the kingdom of forces, physical, chem- 
ical, cosmic. Its delight is to explain phenom- 
ena. It gives us reasons for the things we see 
and hear. It accounts for the lightning, the 
thunder, and the rainbow. It tells us why there 
are eclipses of the sun and the moon, and what 
causes the tide to rise and fall. It understands 
the ways of the wind, and is familiar with the 
laws of the seasons. Science had become the 
miracle worker of our modern world, and was 
enthroned as our most fascinating and authorita- 
tive teacher. We had formed the habit of spell- 

XI 



12 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

ing Nature with a big N, and in sundry circles 
Nature had crowded out the name of God. 
Many men were able to conduct the entire busi- 
ness of their intellectual life with such words as 
force and energy and law, and God was not in all 
their thoughts. But when the big guns began 
to belch death, all this scientific lingo was dis- 
carded, and men began to speak at once'in Bible 
terms. They broke through the network of 
conceptions in which they had been long held 
captive, and came out into the place of the 
prophets and apostles. They did not ask, 
" Why did not the forces of Nature prevent 
this?" They did not place the responsibility 
on either heat or light or gravitation or elec- 
tricity. No one was heard to find fault with the 
laws of Nature. Men were intent on getting 
behind all forces and all laws to the Source of 
things; they pushed their way boldly to the 
throne of God. They demanded of God an 
explanation. 

Some of us had been living in a world of ab- 
stractions. We had fallen into the habit of 
using the pale and vague phrases of the philoso- 
phers. We had become somewhat distrustful 
of such a familiar and definite word as God, and 
preferred to speak of the " Infinite," or the 
" Absolute," or the " Eternal." We were 
deadly afraid of anthropomorphism, and had a 
shrinking from committing ourself to a belief in 
the personality of God. We strove to emanci- 
pate ourself from the conceptions and speech of 
our fathers, and found relief in such large and 



THE MIND'S THIEST FOR GOD 13 

modern expressions as " The infinite and eternal 
energy " or " The tendency that makes for 
righteousness " or the " Vital Urge." But when 
the thunderbolts of the great war began to 
smash to splinters the house in which we had 
been living, we forgot all this philosophic finery, 
and went back to the plain sensible language of 
religion. No one was heard to ask, " Why did 
It allow this deluge of blood and tears? " or 
" Why did the Vital Urge plunge us into so 
deep a ditch ? " Every one used the old word — 
God. Every one spoke without hesitation the 
personal pronoun " He," a pronoun used by all 
normal men through thousands of years in their 
references to the Deity. No one seemed afraid 
to commit himself to the idea that God can hear 
and see. " He that planted the ear shall he not 
hear? He that formed the eye shall he not 
see?" We all took it for granted when the 
war burst upon us that God can see and hear, 
and assuming this, we were puzzled as to why 
He could permit the world to suffer so much. 
The one question which came up again and 
again was, " Why does He not stop it? " We 
were all sure that He knew everything which 
was going on, but we could not reconcile His 
goodness with this deluge of woe. 

This was the piercing question of the people 
at home, and it was also the deepest question of 
the men at the front. The soldiers all became 
theologians. They were shoved into theolog- 
ical thinking by the pressure of army experi- 
ences. Thousands of them had heretofore 



14 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

taken no interest in religion. They had pushed 
it aside as a superstition and a burden. They 
were not interested in questions about God. 
But in the trenches they found themselves now 
and again thinking about God, wondering about 
Him, asking themselves questions concerning 
His character and His purposes. " If He is 
good and almighty then how can He permit all 
this misery? " That is the kind of question at 
which theologians have for centuries been work- 
ing, and the private soldier found himself work- 
ing at it too. He worked at it because he was 
awake. The war had aroused him from intel- 
lectual sleep. All the questions which cluster 
around predestination and foreordination, the 
freedom of the will, and the divine decrees, 
came up one after the other for consideration, 
for the human mind when thoroughly aroused 
has boundless curiosity to know the nature and 
ways of God. Its thirst is insatiable. 

This is the first thing which the war did for 
us, it pushed us into deeper depths of living. It 
compelled us to face problems which we had 
continuously ignored. It gave the intellect a 
jolt, and set wheels, long disused, revolving. It 
aroused the heart. A black tragedy was thrown 
on it, and under the weight of that tragedy the 
heart awoke. Innumerable miseries and woes 
came tramping in from many lands, and the soul, 
semi-stupefied by selfishness, became more hos- 
pitable and human. Sympathy expanded and 
deeper depths of life were uncovered. We had 
been sailing our boat upon a lake, and suddenly 



THE MIND'S THIEST FOE GOD 15 

we found ourselves swept down a rapid river 
and out to sea. Those who think superficially 
have no need of God. Those who think deeply 
find themselves face to face with Him. Under 
sunny skies and on a road which is straight and 
smooth, we do not seem to need the assistance 
of the Almighty, our own strength is sufficient 
for every need. But when we are caught in the 
swirl of forces beyond our control, and are 
swept through days of suffering onward toward 
something we know not what, the soul awakens 
to the fact that there is some one other than it- 
self who is mightily at work, moulding races 
and nations, and sweeping the world onward to 
predetermined ends. 

Christian congregations suddenly found that 
they were interested in so-called doctrinal 
preaching. It had become the fashion in nu- 
merous quarters to smile at dogmas and pooh- 
pooh all the creeds. That it makes no differ- 
ence what a man believes in religion was ac- 
cepted as an axiom even by persons who ought 
to have been wiser. IMcn and women were in- 
terested in their philanthropies and social pro- 
grams and had lost interest in the great truths 
which had made it possible for men in preceding 
centuries to subdue kingdoms, work righteous- 
ness, obtain promises, and stop the mouths of 
lions. It was a practical age — an age bent on 
doing things, and the pressure of the social 
problems had so fixed the eyes of multitudes 
upon the movements of society as to blind them 
to the claims and purposes of God. As soon as 



16 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

the sky grew black and civilization seemed on 
the point of sinking, men began to realize that it 
is by our beliefs that we live. It is because of 
our visions that we have strength to do our 
tasks. Doctrinal preaching is, after all, in- 
tensely practical preaching, for it is the sort of 
preaching which heartens men to bear heavy 
burdens and to meet perilous situations. Con- 
gregations which had been interested solely in 
community welfare work now showed a genuine 
hunger for sermons about God. The human 
heart was crying out everywhere for Him. 
There was an instinctive feeling that it is with 
their Creator that men have to deal, and that 
the first piece of work for every man is to get 
right with God. It was a novel spectacle which 
we witnessed — the man in the street grappling 
with huge problems as old as the world. " If 
God is good how can He be Almighty? " " If 
God is Almighty how can He be good? " The 
old problem of suffering was forced upon every 
sensitive heart. Men found themselves tussling 
with the unfathomable mystery which puzzled 
Job. They did in the midst of their tribulations 
what Job did in the midst of his. They cried 
out: " O that I knew where I might find him, 
that I might come even to his seat! " All deep 
experiences sweep us toward God. The most 
superficial woman in the town becomes a theo- 
logian as soon as she loses her baby. Her first 
question is : " Why has God done this?" A 
man followed through the years by repeated 
failures and misfortunes asks himself: "What 



THE MIND'S THIKST FOR GOD 17 

have I done that God has set Himself against 
me?" A soldier losing his arms and his legs 
has a desire to know something of the attitude 
to him of the God who is in all things and over 
all. Men who lie in the hospitals fatally 
wounded find their thoughts going out toward 
their Creator. In the words of Lieutenant John 
Crowe Ransom : 

" Now God be thanked by dying men 
Who comrades them in times like these. 
The whole world crumples in disease 
But God is pitying to the end, 
And gives an office to my knees." 

New volumes of experience have been filled 
within the last five years, confirming the testi- 
mony of the Psalmist: "Yea, though I walk 
through the valley of the shadow of death, I 
will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod 
and thy staff they comfort me." We need a 
God to explain this world, and we need a God 
to sustain us in making our way through it. At 
the beginning we found ourselves peering into 
the character and the purposes of God, and as 
the war went on, we were compelled to fall back 
upon Him, day by day, for courage and strength. 
It was a disheartening and exhausting war. 
Again and again it seemed as though the Allies 
must inevitably go down. More than once they 
were delivered by what seemed to be a miracle. 
In every year of the conflict there were heart- 
breaking disappointments. The losses were ap- 
palling, and the best laid plans came to nothing. 



18 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

The German military machine was so perfect 
that it seemed no combination of forces could 
avail against it. The sky was black as midnight 
again and again, and never was it blacker than 
in the summer of the last year. 

But even when the outlook was the most 
hopeless, the hearts of the Allies never failed. 
With every defeat their courage stiffened. The 
darker the night the more brightly flamed their 
hope. The French said : " They shall not pass," 
and the Germans did not pass. The British 
general said to his men : " You stand with your 
back to the wall," and there they stood uncon- 
querable. They believed in God. Marshal 
Foch and General Haig trusted in God. The 
great men behind the lines, Mr, Lloyd George, 
Mr. Wilson, Mr. Asquith, were all believers in 
God. Sir David Beatty expressed the faith of 
all of them when he said : " Surely the Almighty 
God does not intend this war to be just a hid- 
eous fracas, a bloody orgy. There must be pur- 
pose in it all. Improvement must be born out of 
it all." It was because God was in His heaven 
that we were certain that righteousness would 
finally prevail. Men about to start for the front 
loved to sing: 

" O God, our help in ages past, 
Our hope for years to come, 
Our shelter from the stormy blast, 
And our eternal home." 

And fathers and mothers far away soothed their 
hearts by humming: 



THE MIND'S THIEST FOE GOD 19 

" O God, the Rock of Ages, 
Who evermore hast been, 
What time the tempest rages, 
Our dvvelHng place serene." 

And so from year to year we found ourselves 
better able to read the Psalter. God became to 
us more and more what He was to Israel, a 
Buckler and a Shield, a Refug-e and a Rock. 
For multitudes the Psalm Book can never be 
again what it was before the war. Sentences 
which were once dull now flame with a holy 
light. Names for God which once seemed 
rneaningless are now freighted with a rich sig- 
nificance. War has kindled a lamp inside the 
Psalter, and lines of poetry which once excited 
only a languid interest now thrill us because 
they express experiences which we ourselves 
have passed through. We can say with the He- 
brew poet: " i\Iy soul thirsteth for God, for the 
living God : when shall I come and appear before 
God.? My tears have been my meat day and 
night, while they continually say unto me, 
Where is thy God?" 

And we can say with a jubilant confidence 
born of experience: "God is our refuge and 
strength, a very present help in trouble. There- 
fore will we not fear, though the earth do 
change, and though the mountains be moved in 
the heart of the seas." 

Not only has the war taught us our supreme 
need of God, but it has made clear that every- 
thing depends upon the kind of God we believe 



20 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

in. It is not enough to believe in God : we must 
believe in the God who has revealed Himself in 
Jesus Christ. The Kaiser is no doubt a con- 
scientious believer in a Supreme Being. All 
through his public career he has pushed to the 
front his religious belief, and never did he speak 
so often or so fervently of Deity as during the 
war. But it nowhere appears that the God in 
whom he believes is the Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ. He believes in what he calls the 
good old German God, and the good old Ger- 
man God seems to be a compound of the Thun- 
der god Thor, of the old Teutonic mythology, 
and the ancient Hebrew God who appears in the 
books of Judges and Samuel. But there is no 
God in the heavens corresponding to either one 
of those ancient conceptions. The God who 
rules this universe is the Father of Jesus Christ. 
The God who is King of Kings and Lord of 
Lords is a God of righteousness and mercy. The 
God who has made of one all the nations of the 
earth, and who sets one nation up and pulls an- 
other nation down, is a God who is sensitive to 
the cries of little children, and zealous in the de- 
fense of helpless women, and indignant over the 
outrages perpetrated by brutal might on de- 
fenseless men. At the center of the universe 
is a heart of pity. On the throne of the universe 
there is a soul of compassion. In this world of 
ours there is an Eternal Spirit who works day 
and night for righteousness, and any nation 
which sets itself against this Spirit is scattered 
as dust. This is the kind of God whom the war 



THE MIND'S THIEST FOR GOD 21 

has revealed anew, and in Him we can trust to 
the uttermost. 

The influence of the war in turning the human 
mind to God is illustrated by the experience of 
the brilliant English novelist, Mr. H. G. Wells. 
Mr. Wells before the war, like many another 
popular writer, had apparently no interest in 
God. He wrote on many subjects, but never 
about God, He ventured into various fields, 
but always kept far away from theology. The 
war wrought a revolution in Mr. Wells' soul. 
That revolution he has described for us in three 
volumes. In the first of these the novelist tells 
us how " Mr. Britling sees it through." 
Through to what? To God ! The war was the 
means of leading Mr. Britling to God. Who is 
Mr. Britling? He is Mr. Wells. A new con- 
vert is full of zeal, and so Mr. Wells had to 
write a second volume. The title was " God 
the Invisible King." He must tell us what kind 
of a God he has found. Even this was not 
enough. Mr. Wells had to write another book, 
"The Soul of a Bishop." The Bishop found 
his soul — he found God. Who is the Bishop? 
Mr. Wells. Mr. Wells cannot be commended 
as a theological teacher, but his experi- 
ence is illuminating as revealing the effect of 
the war upon an exceedingly sensitive and ex- 
ceptionally alert mind. Mr. Wells is only one 
of thousands whom the war has compelled to 
think of their Creator. The war has taught us 
that the human mind when thoroughly aUve is 
athirst for God, 



II 

THE HUNGER OF THE HEART FOR CHRIST 

ON the last night of Jesus' earthly life, He 
said to the men who were nearest to 
Him : " You believe in God, believe 
also in me. I am the way, the truth, and the 
life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by 
me. He that hath seen me hath seen the 
Father. Believe me that I am in the Father, 
and the Father in me." 

In the long days of peace, when the sun shone 
by day and the stars by night, it was enough for 
many of us to believe in God as an essence, a 
principle, a force. As the material universe 
went on expanding under the magic wand of 
Science, we found it impossible to localize Deity 
after the fashion of our childish days. There 
was no longer any " up " or any " down," and 
the heaven with the throne in the middle of it 
upon which God had formerly sat, vanished. 
Science had taken away the God of our youth, 
and we did not know where to find Him. In the 
minds of many the idea of God had consequently 
become vague and dim. His personality had 
faded out. Theoretically men believed He was 
everywhere, but practically it was difficult for 



HUNGER OF THE HEAET FOR CHRIST 23 

them to find Him anywhere. God was lost in 
the immensity of His universe. He remained 
to most men a reality, but He was little more to 
many than the First Great Cause, the infinite 
and eternal Energy from which all things pro- 
ceed. Pantheism of a modern brand crept into 
the mind under the guise of the Divine Imma- 
nence, and while men could speak of God as 
vibrating in every atom of the material universe, 
they did not find it easy to establish personal 
relations with this diffused and unpicturable 
Deity. 

In many circles of thoughtful people the man 
Jesus had receded into the background, crowded 
out by teachers more modern, and with a mes- 
sage seemingly more applicable to the problems 
of our time. His name was held in reverence, 
but He was not a vital factor in conduct or ex- 
perience. He belonged to the distant past, and 
men sought fountains of inspiration in other 
quarters. 

But when the sun was suddenly turned into 
darkness, and the moon into blood, and when 
the stars began to fall from heaven, and civiliza- 
tion threatened to slide into chaos, the heart 
cried out for a God of a very different sort. A 
Principle was not sufficient, an Energy was not 
satisfying, A God who vibrates in atoms did 
not calm or strengthen the heart. We wanted 
some One who would have pity on us, some 
One who would show mercy, some One who 
would sympathize with us in our confusion and 
distress. The universe became chilling, almost 



24 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

icy, and we wanted to cuddle near a heart that 
was warm. The world was swept by a tempest 
of hate, and we were hungrier than ever before 
for love. We believed in God but this was not 
enough. Other men also believed in God. The 
Mohammedans, for instance, believed in God. 
All through the war they prayed daily to God. 
The butchers who piled high the heaps of Arme- 
nian dead no doubt said their prayers before and 
after their horrid butchery. But the God of 
Mohammed is a God of Power. He is almighty 
and he is absolute. He holds all things in an 
iron grip, he rules the universe like an Oriental 
despot. But when the earth runs blood and the 
air is filled with sobs and cryings, we want 
something more than a God of Might. We 
want some one who will say to us tenderly: 
" Come unto me, and I will give you rest." In 
the thunder and uproar of battle, the soul longs 
for tones that are gentle. When all the bar- 
baric appetites and passions leap into the saddle 
and trample the nations into the dust, we go in 
search of some One who will speak to us of 
compassion and pity and love. 

And so the great war did this wonderful 
thing — it rolled the world toward Christ. Men 
who had never cared for Him, now became in- 
terested in Him, men who had used His name 
only in profanity, now began to think about 
Him with reverence, men who had followed 
Him not because of heart allegiance, but be- 
cause of the traditions of their fathers, drew 
closer to Him and found in Him what they had 



HUNGER OF THE HEAET FOR CHRIST 25 

never found before. He had said long ago: " I 
am the bread of hfe," and when the great famine 
came in 191-i men began to understand what He 
meant. He had said : " I am the water of hfe," 
and men on long marches, weary and homesick, 
entered for the first time into the deep mean- 
ing of His words. He had said : " I am the light 
of the world," and when darkness fell upon the 
lands, many a heart turned instinctively to Him 
for guidance. The heart seemed to know the 
hymn even though the lips had never learned it : 

" We would see Jesus, for the shadows lengthen 
Across this little landscape of our life; 
We would see Jesus, our weak faith to strengthen, 
For the last weariness, the final strife." 

Men everywhere felt the need of a brother. 
This was consciously felt by multitudes of the 
people at home — it was the insistent need of the 
men at the front. The soldier wounded and 
deserted in No Man's Land yearned for the 
presence of a friend who sticketh closer than a 
brother. In the solitude and desolation of the 
swamp or the forest many a man realized for the 
first time how necessary is the assistance of a 
big brother, and it was not of a brother at home 
that he thought, but of Him who was glad to call 
Himself the brother of us all. Men wanted a 
brother who could pass over mountains and 
seas, and who could walk unharmed across 
shell-swept battle-fields, and who could breathe 
into the heart the tonic of patience and good 
cheer. The Christ of the Gospels was just the 



26 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

kind of friend which the soldier's heart cried out 
for. This is one of the thrilhng spectacles of 
the war — thousands of men reading the New 
Testament with hungry and eager hearts who 
had never read the New Testament before! 
The New Testament is the most precious of all 
books because it contains the portrait of Jesus — 
the man who reveals to us what God is and also 
what man ought to be. 

Paul in writing to one of his churches said 
that it was his purpose to do nothing but preach 
Christ and Him crucified. The cross stands at 
the center of the Christian religion. All the 
New Testament writers bow before the cross. 
Jesus Himself had said: " I, if I be lifted up, will 
draw all men unto me." The power of the 
cross was demonstrated all through the war, 
and nowhere was its power more manifest than 
at the front. Soldiers in the midst of their suf- 
ferings could not help thinking of the Supreme 
Sufferer of history. It was the suffering Christ 
who came to them in their moments of medi- 
tation, and sometimes even in their dreams. 
The life of a soldier is dreary and disagreeable 
beyond description. Military service has al- 
ways been hard, but never has it been harder 
than in the last war. What the men on the 
fighting front suffered in the last four years can 
never be told. Many a man on coming home 
says : " I do not want to talk about it. I want 
to get the whole hideous experience out of my 
mind." To men who were suffering up to the 
limit of human endurance there was no life 



HUNGER OF THE HEAET FOE CHEIST 27 

which broui^ht such encouragement and com- 
fort as the hie of Him who was a man of sor- 
rows and acquainted with grief. Just to think 
of Him brought the heart peace. Jesus also 
had been loyal to a cause. He also had given 
up everything which men count dear. He also 
had subjected Himself to hardships and suffer- 
ings unspeakable, all because of His devotion 
to a high ideal. He had been willing to sacri- 
fice His life in order that there might be a hap- 
pier and better world. Because Jesus died for 
a great cause it becomes easier for others to die. 
The cross of Christ was foolishness to the 
Greeks and a stumbling block to the Jews of the 
first century. It has been a rock of ofYense to 
thousands in each succeeding generation. In 
our own day scornful words have been written 
about the crucified Jesus, and how necessary it 
is that we should get away from the conception 
of a suffering and dying man. But the war has 
demonstrated that it is a crucified Jesus which 
this world is most of all in need of. He draws 
men to Him now as He has drawn them from 
the beginning by His sufferings and His death. 
So long as men live in a world in which good- 
ness triumphs only through sacrifice, they will 
need the inspiration of the crucifixion. God 
makes His sympathy with us real and potent 
through the sufferings of His Son. Many war 
writers have dwelt upon the place which the 
Sacrament of the Last Supper made for itself in 
the lives of the soldiers at the front. IVIen who 
had never cared for the sacrament at home, put- 



28 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

ting it aside as a needless bit of ritual, now 
found that they needed it, and partook of the 
bread and the wine with glad and grateful 
hearts. There came a fresh meaning into the 
words : " This is my body which is given for 
you, this cup is the new covenant in my blood, 
even that which is poured out for you. This 
do in remembrance of me." Men who have 
given up school or business, and kindred and 
home, and who jeopardize their lives for others, 
are spiritually prepared to understand the deep- 
est passages of the Gospel story. 

There is no doubt that for thousands of men 
the cross of Jesus will shine henceforth with an 
augmented splendour. They will sing with a 
new accent : 

" When I survey the wondrous cross, 
On which the Prince of glory died, 
My richest gain I count but loss, 

And pour contempt on all my pride." 

And their hearts will go like a tidal wave into 
the words of the great hymn : 

" In the cross of Christ I glory 
Tow'ring o'er the wrecks of time." 

To many Protestant boys the Roman Catholic 
crucifix will no longer be obnoxious. They will 
remember the day when a crucifix awakened in 
their minds a train of thought which brought 
comfort. A Protestant chaplain has told us of 
the consolation which came often to him and 



HUNGER OF THE HEART FOR CHRIST 29 

the men who were with him from the represen- 
tations of the crucifixion which Hne the French 
roads. In the daytime they imparted strength 
to the men who marched by them, and some- 
times at night a bronze image of Christ on a 
stone cross, Ht up by the glare of the distant 
guns, would bring to the heart a fresh assurance 
of God's love. Not far away young men were 
being sacrificed for the deliverance of the world, 
and this cross of Christ kept reminding the heart 
that God has declared that it is only through 
sacrifice that the world can be saved. 

What Christ on the cross meant to all the 
men who participated in the great war agony 
we shall never know. There is no doubt that 
Sergeant Joyce Kilmer, who was killed in the 
battle of the Marne, told the story of many a 
heart in his little poem : " Prayer of a Soldier in 
France ": 

" My shoulders ache beneath my pack, 

(Lie easier, Cross, upon His back) 
I march with feet that burn and smart, 

(Tread, Holy Feet, upon my heart) 
Men shout at me who may not speak, 

(They scourged Thy back and smote Thy cheek) 
I may not lift a hand to clear 
My eyes of salty drops that sear. 

(Then shall my fickle soul forget 

Thy Agony of Bloody Sweat) 
My rifle hand is stiffs and numb, 

(From Thy pierced palm red rivers come) 
Lord, Thou didst suffer more for me 
Than all the hosts of land and sea. 
So let me render back again 
This millionth of Thy gift. Amen ! " 



30 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

But it is not simply the revelation of manhood 
that the heart needs in its deepest hours. It 
craves a revelation of God. " Show us the 
Father." This is the cry of the human spirit 
through all the generations. It is not enough 
to know that Jesus was a patient and kind- 
hearted peasant, a philanthropist and patriot, a 
teacher and saint. We want to know God. 
Can Jesus show us God? Can Jesus give us a 
vivid conception of God? Can Jesus lead us to 
God? Can Jesus make us sure of God? Un- 
less we know God and are sure of Him, the 
heart is hungry and the spirit has no rest. We 
want an unveiling of God's mind, a revelation 
of His heart. We want to know how He thinks 
and feels, what is His attitude to us, and what 
are His purposes for the world. 

The New Testament assures us that Christ is 
God manifest in the flesh, that He is the image 
of the invisible God, that He is the very image 
of God's substance, and that if we have the mind 
of Christ we have the mind of God. The war 
drove us in search of a God who could meet im- 
perious needs. We wanted a sympathizing 
God, one who could and would suffer with us, 
one who could be afflicted in all our afflictions. 
We wanted a God of mercy and compassion, one 
who would not be deaf to the cry for help, one 
who would pity mankind in its immeasureable 
woe. We wanted a God of righteousness, one 
who is on the side of justice, and before whom 
the wicked cannot stand. We wanted a God 
who is King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and 



HUNGER OF THE HEART FOR CHRIST 31 

whose ultimate triumph over all the forces of 
evil is certain. We wanted a God who is a con- 
suming fire, who is infinitely holy, and who 
blazes with wrath against all who work iniquity. 
This is the God-ideal which arose in the deep 
places of the heart, and when we looked upon 
Him we discovered that He had the face of 
Jesus. Jesus is the heart's ideal of God. He 
combines all the traits which the soul most 
craves in Deity. He offers us all the blessings 
for which we long. He promises to do all that 
we can ask or hope. We cannot think of a 
moral perfection which He does not possess. It 
is impossible for our imagination to add to His 
glory. The Christian heart always sings: 

" Thou, O Christ, art all I want ; 
More than all in Thee I find." 

The war subjected us to a tremendous test. 
All our conceptions and ideals were thrown into 
the crucible to be purged. In the darkness and 
misery of the long night it was possible for us 
to find out just what kind of God the heart is 
willing to enthrone. We have found out that 
He is the God who has manifested Himself in 
Jesus Christ. No other God can ever win us 
now. The war has blown away the mists of 
misconception, and we now behold Jesus Christ 
more clearly as He is. He is indeed King of 
Kings and Lord of Lords. In the year of our 
Lord 1914 certain kings of the earth set them- 
selves, and certain rulers took counsel together 



32 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

against the Lord, and against His anointed, say- 
ing: "Let us break their bands asunder, and 
cast away their cords from us," but He who sits 
in the heavens laughed, the Lord held them in 
derision. It has been made certain that Jesus' 
insight was infallible, when He declared that 
those who take the sword shall perish with the 
sword. It has been demonstrated that He is 
the Commander of an army which will subdue 
all the kingdoms of this world. He is our 
Brother, our Friend, our Teacher, but He is 
more than all these. He is our King — our 
Ruler — our Master. Savonarola in the fifteenth 
century lifted the shout: "Long live Jesus 
Christ our King! " It was the dream of that 
mighty preacher to make Jesus the acknowl- 
edged King of Florence. Let it be the aim of 
all Christians everywhere to make Jesus Christ 
the King of all the world. God is undoubtedly 
in Christ reconciling the world to Himself. 
Christ's name is deservedly above every name, 
and every knee will some day bend to Him. 
Browning is right when he says : 

" The acknowledgment of God in Christ 
Accepted by the reason, solves for thee 
All questions in the earth and out of it." 

The war has compelled us to face with deep- 
ened seriousness the great mystery of the in- 
carnation. He that hath ears to hear can hear 
a voice saying: " Behold the Lamb of God who 
takes away the sin of the world." War is the 
offspring of suspicion and fear and hate, but war 



HUNGER OF THE HEAET FOR CHRIST 33 

has revealed the world's crying need of a God of 
love. It has made clear that v^ithout the reve- 
lation of God in Christ w^e are lost. We cannot 
trust the conjectures of Science, or the specula- 
tions of Philosophy, or the maxims of the men 
reputed wise. To know who God is and what is 
His attitude to mankind and what are His pur- 
poses for the world we must sit at the feet of 
Jesus. 

" So, the All-Great, were the All-loving too. 
So, through the thunder comes a human voice 
Saying, O heart I made, a heart beats here. 
Face, my hands fashioned, see it in myself 
Thou hast no power, nor mayst conceive of mine 
But love I gave thee, with myself to love. 
And thou must love me who have died for thee." 

The final victory was won by generals and 
admirals who worship God in Christ. Marshal 
Foch is a devout Christian. When men pour 
out their praises on him for his glorious achieve- 
ments he says: "It is not I, it is God." He 
carries an image of Christ in his tunic. One 
day when some men were eulogizing his prow- 
ess and success he pulled out this image of 
Christ, saying: " It is that crucified One on the 
cross who has delivered France." Amid the 
loud singing of the national anthems, the song 
which the heart should lift highest is : 

" All hail the power of Jesus' name ! 
Let angels prostrate fall ; 
Bring forth the royal diadem. 
And crown Him Lord of all." 



Ill 

THE NATURALNESS OF PRAYER 

PRAYER is an instinct. It is a native part 
of our make-up. When God created man 
He implanted in him the impulse to pray. 
Prayer is therefore a feature of the divine 
world-plan. It is something conceived and or- 
dained by the Almighty. It is natural for men 
to breathe and to eat and to drink and to sleep, 
and it is just as natural for them to pray. It is 
said that when the hunted hare realizes that the 
hounds are gaining on it, and that there is noth- 
ing more which it can do for itself, it screams 
aloud. When the soul is overtaken by a terri- 
fying experience it instinctively cries out to 
God. 

In long seasons of fair weather the prayer in- 
stinct may not be given opportunity for expres- 
sion, and like other endowments of the soul, it 
may become atrophied from disuse. Like all 
our other powers, the prayer-faculty grows by 
exercise, and the more one prays the easier it is 
to pray and the more rewarding. But we are 
living in a busy world, and there are many 
things to do. The days are crowded and we are 
compelled to run from task to task with a speed 

34 



THE NATUEALNESS OP PKAYER 36 

which is sometimes breathless. Men absorbed 
in multitudinous details of business often forget 
to exercise their muscles. The body is treated 
as though it were a negligible factor in the life 
of a human being. The penalty for the neglect 
is rigorously exacted. The hospitals and the 
cemeteries bear witness to the fact that the laws 
of the human body cannot be trampled on with 
impunity. Nor can the laws of the soul. There 
is a law of prayer, and the soul that does not 
pray deteriorates and gradually loses its higher 
capacities for living. 

A worldly life — a Ufe which is bounded by the 
material horizon — makes prayer seem a super- 
stition. Men cease to pray and later on dis- 
cover reasons why it is not necessary to pray. 
They can accomplish all which is included in 
their program without speaking to God about it, 
and why then do a superfluous thing? A shallow 
life always makes prayer look ridiculous. If a 
man is content to buy and sell, to read the news- 
papers and attend the theater, without taking on 
his heart any of the tasks or problems which 
belong to full statured men, it is difficult to find 
reasons why that man needs to pray. A selfish 
life does not need for its prosperity the strength 
and vitality which come from prayer. When 
you hear a person say, " I never pray," you have 
an indication of the kind of life he is living. He 
is floating on the surface of existence, and is not 
attempting work which calls for the forth-put- 
ting of the deepest resources of the soul. 

The world before the war was bent largely on 



36 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

material ends. The ambition to make money 
was never more general or more intense. In 
many circles it was an obsession and a fury. 
Entire groups of men were crazy to build colos- 
sal fortunes. Every section of society felt the 
blighting touch of this materialistic hunger. 
Men lived in the world of time and sense, and 
what they supremely craved were material sat- 
isfactions. Invention had supplied the human 
family with numerous interesting toys, and men 
were playing with these with the hilarity and 
thoughtlessness of little boys and girls at 
Christmas. 

It was in a time drenched with the material- 
istic spirit that the objections to prayer became 
to many minds insuperable. Not only was there 
no desire to pray, but there seemed to be many 
and valid reasons why men ought not to pray. 
Certain features of scientific theory were eagerly 
seized on and converted into arguments against 
the efficacy of prayer. The conception of uni- 
versal and unchangeable law was diligently ex- 
ploited, and so also was the idea that a loving 
God will give His children all they need without 
any trouble on their part of asking. Out of the 
very book which insists upon it that men ought 
always to pray and not to faint, there was taken 
a conception of God which made all prayer ab- 
surd. The intellect is a sort of spider which 
spins webs in which to catch our holiest in- 
stincts. The worldly intellect has no difficulty in 
spinning threads to bind men toaprayerlesslife. 

Under the combined influence of the worldly 



THE NATUEALNESS OF PEAYEK 37 

heart and the so-called scientific objections to 
prayer, multitudes of men and women grew 
careless in the ordering of their devotional life; 
the family altar was discontinued in thousands 
of homes, and not a few members of the church 
became so skeptical on the subject of prayer 
that their prayer life became a burden and a 
mockery. Some confessed, with a touch of re- 
gret in their tone, that they had prayed in 
earlier life, but had given up that habit, while 
others openly derided prayer as an efifete form 
of superstition. They said much about the 
reign of law, and never suspected the power of 
the reign of worldliness. They quoted sundry 
scientific writers, but they never quoted Jesus. 
They paraded the arguments of famous men to 
prove that prayer is futile, never suspecting that 
these arguments were all rooted in the shallow 
soil of a worldly heart. 

But when the war, like a big black storm, 
swept in fury across the world, men and women 
in every country fell upon their knees. The 
same report was returned from every nation. 
As by a flash of lightning we saw that God has 
indeed made of one all the nations of the earth. 
Men are everywhere alike, and in tinie of dis- 
tress turn to a Supreme Power for succour. We 
had often seen this fact illustrated on a small 
scale. We knew that men and women always 
pray on a sinking ship, that in railroad accidents 
men cry out to Heaven, that even infidels and 
profeF>sed atheists when trapped in a burning 
building throw themselves on God, but never 



38 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

before had we seen the whole world drop sud- 
denly to its knees. The churches became 
crowded. Extra services were held. The most 
satisfying part of the services was the prayers. 
Men who had not been in a church for years 
were found there. Men who had convinced 
themselves that it is not worth while to pray 
now prayed with zeal. The elemental instinct 
of our humanity mightily asserted itself, and in 
the twinkling of an eye all the cobwebs of the 
brain were swept away, and men did instinc- 
tively what they were created to do. They 
spoke to God, 

It is surprising how all the arguments against 
prayer suddenly shrivelled and blew away. The 
howitzers which blew to atoms the forts of Bel- 
gium also blew down the proud structures which 
unbelief had reared. Men were in a cell behind 
bars harder than steel — the conceptions of the 
universality and unchangeableness of law — but 
these bars melted like wax in the heat of the 
great conflagration. The speculations of the 
intellect could not stand against a primitive in- 
stinct. Man is by nature a praying animal. 
The prayer instinct is deep and ineradicable. 
Prayer will always have its difficulties, but they 
will never permanently prevail. The intellect 
will always find plausible reasons why men need 
not pray, but the soul when awake will continue 
to cry to God. 

Prayer in its simplest form is a plea for per- 
sonal deliverance. The Hebrew poet kept his 
eye on human experience when he wrote : 



THE NATUEALNESS OF PRAYEE 39 

" Hungry and thirsty their soul fainted in them, 
then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble." 

" They fell down and there was none to help, then 
they cried unto the Lord in their trouble." 

" They draw near unto the gates of death, then they 
cry unto the Lord in their trouble." 

"They reel to and fro and stagger like a drunken 
man, and are at their wit's end, then they cry 
unto the Lord in their trouble." 

Every man when he is at his wit's end — when 
he has gone as far as it is possible for him to go, 
and he realizes that that is not far enough, cries 
out to the Almighty in his trouble. When the 
war broke upon us we were all at our wit's end. 
No one had wisdom enough to meet such an 
appalling situation. The walls of our boasted 
civilization fell flat, and the men on whom we 
had relied for guidance and protection were all 
impotent. Then we cried unto the Lord in our 
trouble. Soldiers and sailors saying good-bye 
to the loved ones at home prayed. Later on, 
awaiting the command to go over the top they 
prayed again. Still later, wounded and bleed- 
ing with no one near to help, they spoke again 
to God. The Englishman described by Donald 
Hanky who had not prayed for years, but who 
when alone in No IMan's Land, and so far as he 
knew wounded unto deah, talked to God about 
his wife and his kiddies, did only what every 
man naturally does. That man had been living 
an abnormal life, but when he came to himself 
he spoke to his Heavenly Father. 



40 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

As the war progressed we found our prayer 
life deepening. The first prayer is always a cry 
for personal help. The savage prays to be de- 
livered from some approaching calamity. The 
barbarian becomes devout in the presence of a 
threatening foe. Children begin their prayer 
life by asking God for things they want. The 
child in us keeps that form of prayer in the first 
place. There are many adults who have never 
gotten beyond the narrow bounds of the prayers 
of their childhood. Their prayers are little 
more than, "O God, give me this; O God, I 
want that." But the man whose heart life is 
growing is not content to pray solely for bless- 
ings for himself. He prays for others. He 
prays for those he loves. He prays for those he 
knows. As he grows older he prays for those 
also whom he does not know, and whom he has 
never seen. 

Now the difficulties of intercessory prayer are 
more puzzling to the intellect than those of 
prayer for blessings for oneself. A man who 
asks God for a gift for himself can by means of 
his philosophy of the mind explain how that 
prayer may be answered, but how can a man by 
speaking to God help another man who it may 
be does not pray for himself? In what way, 
picturable to the imagination, can my prayer 
assist a man whom I do not know and whom I 
have never seen? The difficulties become still 
more baffling when we begin to pray for whole 
groups and classes of people, and the difficulty 
reaches its climax when we attempt to pray for 



THE NATUEALNESS OF PRAYER 41 

the largest social groups, nations and entire 
races. Many a plausible chapter has been writ- 
ten against intercessory prayer, and an acute 
skeptic can offer arguments which it is impos- 
sible for a believer to answer. In our prayer 
life, as in all the other kingdoms of experience, 
we walk by faith and not by sight. It is always 
possible to ask questions concerning prayer 
which the wisest man on earth cannot meet. 
How can God help a man thousands of miles 
away from me for whom I pray? The answer 
is, I do not know. But this ignorance on my 
part is no valid argument against the efficacy of 
my praying. How does the soul live in the 
body? Nobody knows. It is impossible to ex- 
plain it. The fact is not overturned or made 
doubtful by our inability to furnish an explana- 
tion. There are many facts which must be ac- 
cepted without explanation. We must live, and 
whatever is necessary to sustain our life we will 
do. The explanations will come later, some of 
them in this world, and most of them in the 
world to come. When we are in trouble wc cry 
to God for help. Our helplessness is the reason 
for our crying. All the great workers of history 
have been men of prayer. They prayed not be- 
cause they reasoned themselves into the attitude 
of prayer, but because their need drove them to 
it. Our greatest leaders in their darkest hours 
have all been found upon their knees. It was 
the weight of the burden which turned their 
face toward God. They could not live under 
such pressure without the Divine aid. 



42 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

Now when the pressure becomes sufficiently 
heavy we pass over into the kingdom of inter- 
cessory prayer. We do not stop to examine 
the arguments for and against it. We do not 
consult any books to ascertain what the latest 
thinkers have said about it. We go right on 
and pray for others. When we are in distress 
our heart is enlarged, and we spread our peti- 
tions out over wider areas of human life. We 
follow our instinct. We do it because our com- 
plete life demands it. Fathers and mothers 
have not been able in recent years to confine 
their prayers to themselves. Even parents who 
had not prayed often for their children found 
themselves praying when the ship carried their 
sons across the sea. How natural it was to 
pray and how easy and how irrepressible. It 
was as natural as breathing. Tens of thousands 
of American parents have been baptized into a 
new spirit by the war. No one has ever said 
good-bye to his son, knowing that he was 
going into the horror and hell of the fighting 
line, and that he was being swept out be- 
yond the parental reach and beyond the reach 
of every human arm, without feeling a sense of 
helplessness which was as novel as it is unfor- 
getable. In that hour there was nothing to do 
but pray. That is what parents did, and 
brothers and sisters did it, and so did wives and 
children and sweethearts. Intercessory prayer 
can never be a meaningless thing again to those 
whose hearts have spoken day after day to God 
about a boy who was far away. The claims of 



THE NATUEALNESS OF PEAYEE 43 

life are paramount and there are times when we 
cannot live unless we pray. Once initiated into 
the sweet mystery of intercessory petition, we 
found it easy to take in others besides those we 
knew and loved. We prayed for whole classes 
of people whom we had never seen and whom 
we never expected to see. The women of the 
war-ravaged districts arose before our mind's 
eye and we prayed for them. We could hear 
the sobs of mothers and the moans of widows, 
and it was not possible to approach the Mercy 
Seat without including these in our petitions. 
The sufferings of little children haunted us day 
and night. We carried them on our heart, and 
because they were on our heart, they dropped 
into our prayers. We prayed for all Belgium. 
We had to do it. The heart would have cried 
out in wrath if we had condemned our lips to 
silence. We prayed for France, and for Great 
Britain, and for Italy, and for Russia, and for 
Serbia, and for Roumania, and for Greece. It 
became as easy to pray for nations as formerly 
for individuals. God enlarged us in the day of 
crushing calamity, and there was room within 
us for the whole suffering world. Some of us 
found it possible to pray for Germany. Our 
Lord has told us to pray for our enemies. We 
did it, and received the blessing which is prom- 
ised to hearts that are obedient. The whole 
war was a wonderful discipline in prayer. 

We have gained new experience in the prayer 
of confession. We as a people had grown blind 
to the heinousness of sin. We did not realize 



44 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

how far short we were falHng from the divine 
standard, and how audaciously all the nations 
had been trampling on the law of Christ. We 
prayed no longer for earthly blessings. Many 
of the things we had coveted greatly now 
seemed cheap and tawdry. We wanted the 
blessings which abide, and above all we desired 
forgiveness. The Pharisaic tone disappeared 
from much of the praying of Christian people, 
and in the place of it there came the note of the 
Publican: "God be merciful to me a sinner!" 
In thousands of homes the fifty-first Psalm be- 
came the chief Psalm in the Psalter, and no sen- 
tences expressed more fully the desire of the 
heart than : " Hide thy face from my sins, and 
blot out all mine iniquities. Create in me a 
clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit 
within me ! " 

Nor was the prayer of thanksgiving denied 
us. Many of us had well-nigh forgotten how to 
be grateful. The language of thanksgiving was 
foreign to our lips. But when after long years 
of agony the work of carnage ceased, the lan- 
guage of the Hebrew poets became our native 
speech. We made a joyful noise unto the Lord. 
We were like unto them that dream. Then was 
our mouth filled with laughter and our tongue 
with singing, then said they among the nations: 
" The Lord hath done great things for them." 
Man is naturally religious, and when he is com- 
pletely himself he speaks easily the language of 
religion. In those great glad days which suc- 
ceeded the signing of the armistice the Psalm 



THE NATUEALNESS OF PEAYER 45 

book shone with an unusual splendour. The 
devotional language of religious men- of old 
came easily to our lips. We said: "Bless the 
Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless 
his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and 
forget not all his benefits." 

It is in the note of adoration and thanksgiving 
that prayer reaches its climax. In our worldly 
hours this form of prayer is tedious if not impos- 
sible. When we are cumbered with many cares, 
or when we are worried about what we are go- 
ing to eat and wear, or when we are scrambling 
for tinsel crowns, the heart does not engage in 
the prayer of adoration. But in our highest 
moods, when all the faculties of the soul are at 
their best, it is natural for us to pour out our 
heart to God in praise. When John heard the 
worship in the ideal world, he saw that all cre- 
ated beings were prostrate before the throne, 
and that the representatives of humanity, hav- 
ing cast their crowns at the feet of God, were 
saying: "Worthy art thou, our Lord and our 
God, to receive the glory and the honour and 
the power, for thou didst create all things, and 
because of thy will they were, and were cre- 
ated." In the jubilant days immediately follow- 
ing the war, the worship in our churches 
reached ideal heights. It was natural for us to 
say : " Unto him that sitteth on the throne, and 
unto the lamb, be the blessing and the honour, 
and the glory and the dominion for ever and 
ever." 



IV 

THE POWER OF FAITH 

FAITH is not the mysterious and impos- 
sible thing which some men imagine it to 
be. To many persons it suggests cate- 
chisms, and commentaries, and ponderous theo- 
logical treatises. It is a thing distinctively 
ecclesiastic. It belongs in churches. It is a 
favourite theme for preachers. It is something 
within the reach of no one but the saints. Men 
say, " I have no faith," with an accent which 
declares that it is impossible for them to have 
any. It has the reputation of being a technical 
and narrow thing which the man in the street 
needs not meddle with. 

But faith is one of the most abundant things 
in the world, and one of the simplest. It is 
found everywhere. Were it not universally dif- 
fused the world would fall to pieces. Humanity 
is held together by man's faith. It is by faith 
that we live. Destroy all a man's faith, and life 
for him has lost its glory and motive. Faith is 
exercised in various directions, and up to vari- 
ous limits. We are not all alike in the degree 
to which we exercise faith in the different king- 
doms of life, but no one of us is entirely without 

46 



THE POWER OF FAITH 47 

it. We all believe that the sun will come up in 
the morning. We believe it will come up not 
far from the same time at which it came up to- 
day. We feel certain it will not wait till nine 
o'clock or till half-past eleven. The sun has 
established habits, and we entertain no fear of 
those habits being broken. We have faith in 
the sun, and believe he will continue to do what 
he has done since we first saw him. In January 
we believe in the spring. We have faith in its 
coming. Even when there is no indication of 
its approach, and when all the world is cased in 
ice, we have no difficulty in believing in the 
spring. Many springs have come and gone, and 
another one is coming. This we steadfastly be- 
lieve. We are content to walk by faith and not 
by sight. 

To do this is not evidence of a credulous and 
feeble mind. We have faith in the order of 
Nature, and are not ashamed to confess it. We 
do not believe that the sun or the moon or the 
stars are going to become capricious next week, 
and that everything in the physical heavens 
thereafter is to go on at haphazard. We be- 
lieve in law, and we are sure that that law can 
be depended on. We are not living in a uni- 
verse which is crazy, or which is likely to go 
crazy. Our faith in the order of the material 
universe is absolute. No one is sentimental be- 
cause he entertains such a faith, nor is he super- 
stitious. It is natural for man to believe in the 
reliability of the physical order, and if he lacks 
this belief it is because his mind is sick. 



48 WHAT THE WAK HAS TAUGHT US 

It is not enough, however, to beheve in inor- 
ganic nature, we must believe also in human 
nature. And we do. We begin by trusting our 
father and mother, and we are able later on to 
trust the whole human race. We cannot trust 
all individuals, but we can trust humanity. We 
cannot have faith in every man, but we can have 
faith in man. It is only because men have faith 
in one another that the world gets on. When 
we board a train we have faith in the man in the 
locomotive, we believe he understands his busi- 
ness and will bring us to our destination. 
When we sit down in a hotel to eat our dinner 
we have faith in the cook. We do not suspect 
him of a desire to poison us. When we take 
our money to the bank and leave it there, receiv- 
ing a scrap of paper in return, we are giving an 
exhibition of our faith. If we had no faith in 
men we should be obliged to dig a hole and put 
all our gold and silver in the ground. We are 
often disappointed in human beings. Again 
and again we are deceived and cheated, but this 
does not destroy our faith in human nature. 
Our faith is too deep-rooted to be destroyed. 
It is a part of our very soul, and without it we 
should become something less than human. 

The war gave us amazing exhibitions of the 
power of faith ; faith in men, and faith also in 
the moral order of the universe. There are 
three forms of faith, faith in oneself, faith in our 
fellows, and faith in God. All these three forms 
of faith rose to their highest in the great con- 
flict. What magnificent faith men had in them- 



THE POWEE OF FAITH 49 

selves. Soldiers achieved incredible victories, 
because they had no doubt of themselves. Even 
when the situation seemed hopeless, and so far 
as human calculations could go, defeat appeared 
inevitable, men by the sheer force of the faith 
that was in them snatched triumph out of the 
jaws of destruction. 

Men believed as never before in themselves. 
The Frenchman never realized how much con- 
fidence he had in himself till he met the German 
hosts at Verdun. The Britisher gained a new 
conception of the solidity and tenacity of the 
British soul that was in him when, under a sky 
out of which the sun had fallen, he still found 
himself believing that the British army could 
not be defeated. 

Men believed in themselves, and they also be- 
lieved in others. That is indispensable at all 
times, especially in war. Wars are not won by 
individuals but by groups. A man must have 
faith not only in himself but in all the men who 
fight with him. This form of faith grew to 
glorious proportions during the war. We be- 
lieved in one another. We built our hopes on 
the fidelity and loyalty of the average man. 
We knew that men are frail and flawed with 
many an imperfection, but our confidence in 
their ability to meet the supreme test never 
wavered. We believed in the soldiers and 
sailors of our own country, and our belief was 
equally strong in the sailors and soldiers of 
other lands. We Americans expected the very 
highest things of our army and navy. We were 



50 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

not disappointed. Our fighting men fought all 
the more bravely because they were backed up 
by our glowing belief in them. How could the 
British soldiers fail when the whole British Em- 
pire had such faith in them? And how could 
Frenchmen prove recreant when the heart of 
France beat strong and hot behind the fighting 
line? Clemenceau was not a man whom the 
world would have expected to become France's 
foremost citizen in a time of war. In the first 
place he was too old, and in the second place his 
record was against him. By his reckless and 
eccentric denunciations of men and parties he 
had raised up barriers to his political success. 
But he possessed the one thing which France 
was most in need of — faith. He took office in 
the month of November, 1917, when there was 
little light in the sky. The months which fol- 
lowed were as somber as any which France has 
ever known. Russia had fallen by the wayside, 
bleeding and half dead. The promised Ameri- 
can army was yet far away, and it was doubtful 
if it could arrive in time. Germany was putting 
forth a strength surpassing that of any preced- 
ing year. It looked as though the doom of 
France was sealed. But the heart of the old 
editor never quailed. He was the most confi- 
dent man in all France. He felt sure that vic- 
tory was coming. His faith was contagious. 
It penetrated the soul of the whole nation. Be- 
fore he became Premier there had been groups 
of defeatists in various parts of France, especially 
in Paris. But in the presence of this man of 



THE POWER OF FAITH 51 

faith their doubts disappeared. It is said that 
from the day on which he took ofhce no one in 
France doubted the outcome of the war. To 
the eye things continued as black as ever, but in 
the heart of France there was a new hope, kin- 
dled by the irresistible faith of one man. Faith 
in the human heart often sleeps, but is never 
dead. During the war it leaped to its feet and 
gave us fresh revelations of its beauty and its 
measureless power. 

But there were periods in the war when our 
faith in men was not enough. It is difficult to 
maintain a calm belief in human leaders in time 
of storm. As the storm increases, we grow 
more and more distrustful of those who are 
managing the ship. We cannot help feeling 
that under different management we might have 
reached the desired haven sooner. In every 
country there were seasons of deep depression. 
The wisdom of political leaders seemed insuffi- 
cient to grapple successfully with the problems 
forced upon them. In some of the countries 
leaders were changed more than once. They 
were retired because the people had lost confi- 
dence in them. There were times when the 
military machinery creaked badly and threat- 
ened to break down. We in America were tor- 
tured by doubts as to our ability to get guns 
manufactured in season, to raise and drill an 
army soon enough, to transport our men to the 
fighting line before it was too late. In more 
than one crisis there were many doubting 
hearts. Men straining their eyes to see means 



52 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

of escape from the impending calamity were 
able to see nothing. But even then their faith 
did not fail them. A deeper kind of faith came 
to their rescue. After they had lost faith in all 
the machinery which human genius had been 
able to create, they fell back on their faith in 
the moral integrity of the universe. They be- 
lieved that the world is so constructed that jus- 
tice in the long run must inevitably prevail. 
They accepted the dictum of the poet that 
truth crushed to earth will rise again. Just as 
they believed in the regular rising of the phys- 
ical sun, so they now believed more firmly than 
ever that the Sun of Righteousness would surely 
rise with healing in His beams. Men who did 
not use the name of God and who made no pro- 
fessions of belief in Him had an unconquerable 
faith in the moral order of the world. They 
could not admit that a righteous cause can be 
defeated. Even though they could not tell how 
victory could be won, they still insisted that de- 
feat was impossible. I asked one day a French 
chaplain who was visiting this country what he 
thought of the outcome. His reply was that 
the Allies were sure to win. I asked him how, 
and he said he did not know. I suggested one 
way after another, but none of them seemed to 
satisfy him. He saw no hope in any direction 
I was able to suggest, but his conviction of 
final victory remained immovable. He could 
not see how the victory was coming. He was 
only sure that it would come. This is faith. 
We walk by faith when we walk by the sight 



THE POWEE OF FAITH 63 

of the inner eye. Faith is not shut up in 
churches. It is not a fad or hobby of pro- 
fessedly rehgious people. It is found in men 
who are not identified with any form of religion. 
Men who have no connection with Christian 
churches, and who find all religious forms irk- 
some, sometimes exhibit a faith which surpasses 
that of those who are listed in the ranks of the 
believers. Many a man had a song in his heart 
which he did not sing with his lips. All sorts 
and conditions of men knew the tune of the old 
hymn : 

" Right is right since God is God 
And right the day must win, 
To doubt would be disloyalty, 
To falter would be sin." 

This belief in the moral order of the world 
was what sustained the Allies in the years of 
darkness and defeat. When Germany entered 
the war her suprerrte faith was in her military 
machine. She had spent forty years in con- 
structing it, bestowing on it the full energy of 
her wonderful mind. It was no doubt the most 
perfect military engine ever constructed by mili- 
tary genius. So confident was the German 
General Staff of the invincibility of this engine 
that it was not reluctant to declare war, if neces- 
sary, upon the whole world. Of all the nations 
which entered the war, Germany was the only 
one which entered it with a shining face. Her 
heart sang because of her faith — her implicit 
trust in the efficiency of the instrument which 



54 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

her hands had made. The high priests of mili- 
tarism had by diligent instruction succeeded in 
building up in the hearts of a majority of the 
German people a faith similar to their own. 
Politically the German people are docile, and 
they accepted blindly the creed handed them by 
their leaders. The evidence is voluminous and 
incontrovertible that the German people were 
on the whole firm in their belief that with the 
help of their engine of war it was possible for 
them to seize and hold the leadership of the 
world. They felt this leadership belonged to 
them because of their intellectual superiority 
and their moral worth. Their faith was in their 
own strong right arm. But when the military 
engine began to give signs of breaking down, 
the spirit of the German people collapsed. As 
soon as it became apparent that the German 
military hierarchy was not infallible, Germans 
lost faith in their cause. Their faith had been 
primarily in themselves. The moral order of 
the universe had not greatly concerned them. 
They wanted a larger place in the sun, and any 
method of gaining it, however atrocious, was 
justifiable. Treaties were only scraps of paper, 
and the rights of humanity were fictions to be 
laughed at. Never in history did a nation so 
recklessly trample on all the laws of God and 
man as did Germany in the great war. Her 
recklessness was due to her faith. She believed 
with all her soul and heart and mind and 
strength in her army. By means of her army 
she could enlarge her borders, and assess upon 



THE POWER OF FAITH 65 

all nations which opposed her will crushing in- 
demnities. Her frankness in telling- the whole 
world what she was going to do was the product 
of her colossal conceit. But she built her house 
on the sand. When the flood came it was swept 
away. The suddenness of her downfall amazed 
the world. It was the fall of a colossus whose 
feet were clay. It was the collapse of an 
edifice whose foundation stones were rotten. 
Germany had ceased to sing in her heart the 
hymn of her greatest son : 

" A mighty fortress is our God 
A bulwark never failing," 

and had worshipped at the shrine of Bismarclc 
and Nietzsche and Bernhardi. IMilitary reverses 
are disheartening to nations not certain of the 
righteousness of their cause. Local defeats 
spread panics through an army whose chief am- 
bition is conquest. Even the Prussian Guard 
was not able to stem the tide which flowed re- 
sistlessly back toward the German frontier. 
Surely the German soldiers were not cowards. 
They had simply lost faith in their cause. 

The collapse of Germany under the blows of 
defeat is all the more impressive when set in 
contrast with the effect of defeat on the armies 
of the Allies. Often were these armies defeated, 
but their spirit only stiffened under each suc- 
cessive defeat. Their misfortunes were ap- 
palling, but they did not break the French or 
British temper. The blacker the skies the 



56 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

higher the French and British held their heads, 
and the more tremendous the assaults made 
upon them, the deeper became the determination 
that they would never allow themselves to be 
conquered. It was their belief in the righteous- 
ness of the cause for which they fought which 
rendered them invincible. It was their trust in 
the moral integrity of the universe which 
enabled them, thrown repeatedly to the ground, 
to rise again. It was because of their faith in 
God that they finally prevailed. " They en- 
dured as seeing Him who is invisible." 

We who were far behind the battle lines were 
sustained by the same holy faith. Better even 
than the men at the front we could see every 
bending of the battle line, and could measure 
the extent of each retreat. We had spread be- 
fore us day after day the full account of the 
awful losses, and could take in, as it was not 
possible for a soldier to take in, the full dimen- 
sions of each disaster. There were times when 
the eye looking on from afar could see no 
possibility of deliverance. In those times we 
boldly walked by faith. We said to ourselves: 
" Paris is not going to fall." " The channel 
ports will not be taken." And then, perchance, 
feeling that we had been over confident, we 
went on to say, " But even if Paris does go 
down, and even if the channel ports all fall into 
German hands, even then the cause of the Allies 
will triumph." We said this solely because of 
our faith in God. 

A New York boy marching with his regiment 



THE POWEE OF FAITH 57 

one day through an EngHsh town, was feeling 
homesick and very tired. It was in the late 
afternoon. His face was toward France, and 
in imagination he could already hear the boom 
of the guns. Presently the regiment came 
in front of an orphan asylum where little 
boys and girls were singing the " Star-Spangled 
Banner." To this American boy three thou- 
sand miles from home, the national anthem 
had never seemed so sweet as it seemed that 
evening. Its sweetness was deepened by the 
fact that it was sung by children of another 
nation, and its words gained a pathos and a 
power because they came from the lips of chil- 
dren made orphans by the war. The anthem 
was all beautiful, but there was one couplet 
which rose in loveliness above everything else. 
This American soldier had never been im- 
pressed by that particular couplet before, but 
now it seemed almost like a voice from heaven : 

" Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 
And this be our motto, in God is our trust." 

The sun was sinking in the west, and these 
American boys were marching toward the field 
of blood, but they forgot their weariness and 
saw no longer the perils of the front. Their 
hearts had been lifted to new altitudes of faith 
by these children's voices, and they rested anew 
in the great God who is in and over and behind 
all causes which are just. 



V 

THE JOY OF SERVICE 

ONE of the miracles of the last four years 
has been the abounding gladness in the 
hearts of multitudes of our people. 
The papers do not say much about it, but we are 
all aware of its existence. There was a spirit 
of cheerfulness in the air which every sensitive 
heart could feel. There was a spiritual glow 
in the people which we had never known be- 
fore. This gave us great surprise. There were 
a thousand reasons why we ought to have been 
disconsolate. Every day we had justification 
for being glum. The daily chronicle of the 
world's losses was enough to drive every sun- 
beam out of the heart. Men were dying every 
week by the thousands. The wealth accumu- 
lated by the sweat and toil of a century was 
being thrown into the fire. The misery of 
whole populations was indescribable. The 
hunger and wretchedness and helplessness of 
men, women and children was a tragedy black 
enough to overwhelm us. We could not help 
thinking of these losses. The destruction of 
homes and of family treasures, of rare manu- 

58 



THE JOY OF SERVICE 69 

scripts and books, of famous paintings and 
statues and renowned cathedrals — this lay like 
a crushing weight upon our hearts. And then 
there were the still greater losses, the loss of 
reputation and honour by nations which we had 
formerly revered, the loss of confidence and 
trust by which the soul lives, the loss of faith in 
leaders who had once been our teachers, surely 
this was sufficient to cover the whole land with 
gloom. Strange to say, it did not. At no time 
during the war was our country really gloqmy. 
Never was there a day which could properly be 
called doleful. This was true even after we had 
entered into the war, and after the columns of 
the newspapers had begun to be filled with the 
names of our own wounded and dead. Even 
when military reverses were most dishearten- 
ing, and when the outlook was darkened by 
rolling masses of clouds, even then there was a 
light in the land which kept us from stumbling, 
and a joy in the heart which made it glorious to 
be alive. 

On looking back on it all, we are filled with 
amazement. We can hardly understand how 
we got on as we did. We can remember now 
even though we may not have thought of it at 
the time, that our hearts burned within us as we 
walked along the darkened and perilous way. 
There was an exhilaration, an exaltation of soul 
in our people which cannot be remembered 
without a thrill. The glory of the Lord seemed 
to shine round about us. 

When we seek for an explanation of this re- 



60 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

markable phenomenon, we find it in the fact 
that for once the whole American people entered 
deeply into the experience of servantship. Sud- 
denly we were all called upon to serve. The 
call came in 1914, and we went to work at once 
to send needed things across the sea. The call 
was louder in 1915, and louder still in 1916, and 
in 1917 it became like thunder. Up to the 
spring of 1917 we had been giving money, food, 
clothing, medicines, bandages, all the things 
which sick and wounded men need, but in April, 
1917, we ourselves went into the war as com- 
batants, and at once it became necessary for us 
to enlarge our activities on every hand. There 
were thousands of things to be done, and they 
had to be done at once, and with efficiency. 
The work of fighting is only a fraction of the 
task of war. To keep one man in the trenches 
seven men and women must work constantly 
behind the lines. We found at once that the 
work could not be accomplished by any one 
class of our people. There was work for all. 
We had entered on a stupendous enterprise and 
every one had to do his bit. The spontaneity 
and alacrity with which all classes responded to 
this call will never be forgotten. The young 
men of the country submitted to conscription. 
There were predictions that such an innovation 
would be stubbornly resisted, but the predic- 
tions were not fulfilled. The anticipated riots 
did not occur. Our young men responded 
magnificently to their country's call. The ex- 
ample of the soldiers and sailors was followed 



THE JOY OF SEEVICE 61 

by all our people. Every one wanted to do 
something. When the Red Cross called for 
workers, they came in a constant procession. 
When the Red Cross asked for millions of 
dollars they were promptly given. When the 
Y. M. C. A. called for workers, they responded 
by the thousands, and when it asked for mil- 
lions of dollars, the dollars came. A score of 
new organizations leaped into the field calling 
for money and volunteers, and these did not call 
in vain. There seemed to be no limit either to 
the willingness to give money, or to the ambi- 
tion and capacity to serve. 

This zeal was not peculiar to any one class of 
our people. The rich were not a whit behind 
the poor in their eagerness to help. Even many 
of the idle rich put their hand to the plow and 
never looked back. Men of wealth gave up 
their mansions for the use of soldiers, and 
women of high society worked side by side with 
their obscure sisters in Red Cross sewing circles 
and in canteens. Millionaires gave their money 
lavishly, and what was even more indispensable, 
their time and ability to the Government. 
Business men with five talents placed all their 
talents on the altar of their country. Men 
capable of earning hundreds of thousands a year 
were willing to work for one dollar. Kings of 
finance and merchant princes and college presi- 
dents were glad to double their hours of work, 
and to subject themselves to the strain and 
fatigue of numberless trips to Washington. 
Men who had never before known what a de- 



62 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

light it is to work for a great cause now found 
it; and women who had Hved exclusively for 
themselves now had the novel and joyous ex- 
perience of working for others. 

In all great enterprises calling for generosity 
and self-abnegation no class of human beings 
ever surpasses the poor. All over the coun- 
try the rich and the poor worked together in 
serving the Allies. While the rich gave their 
millions, the poor gave their dollars, and it was 
out of extreme poverty that many gave. From 
the Atlantic to the Pacific, women knitted day 
and night in the home, in the lecture hall, in the 
street cars, on the street corner, everywhere. 
The poorest woman in the town felt it a privi- 
lege to make her contribution to the world's 
cause. Families denied themselves in some 
cases even the comforts of life in order that they 
might do more for those who were in need far 
away. Girls who toiled all day in the factory 
or store were glad in spite of their weariness to 
give their evenings to work for the Red Cross, 
or to serve in canteens. It would be a beautiful 
chapter in the history of the world if one could 
tell the full story of what the poor people of our 
country did to achieve victory in the great 
war. 

The aged were not willing to be left out. Old 
men who had retired from business, or ceased 
to work at their trade because of their age, be- 
came workers again. And aged women worked 
with the agility and glee of girls in knitting 
socks and sweaters for the boys at the front. 



THE JOY OF SEEVICE 63 

Even the children were baptized into the same 
spirit, and did with the fine zest of youth every- 
thing that it was possible for children to do. 
There were no more ambitious and indefati- 
gable sellers of Liberty Bonds in the land than 
were found among the boys and girls in the 
schools. They too helped to win the great war. 
How many thousands of boys and girls in Bel- 
gium and France and Armenia were made glad 
by the sacrifices and labours of the boys and 
girls of America, only God will ever know. 
From the richest to the poorest and from the 
oldest to the youngest, the American people 
gave themselves up to the gigantic task of mak- 
ing the world safe for democracy. 

Here then is a spectacle truly sublime. A 
nation of a hundred million people baptized into 
the spirit of service: a vast country dedicated 
soul and body to the forwarding of a noble en- 
terprise; a mighty Republic girding itself for the 
doing of a splendid task; all classes and con- 
ditions of men surrendering themselves to a 
great cause. It was an awakening, a rebirth of 
the American soul. ]\Iany selfish people be- 
came for a season unselfish. They had lived all 
their life for themselves, and for a season they 
now lived for others. From their birth they 
had been lords and ladies, and now they sud- 
denly became servants. No wonder there was 
a new emotion, a new thrill. Scales, as it were, 
fell from the eyes. Manacles dropped from the 
wrists. Men and women found themselves in 
possession of a freedom they had never known 



64 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

before. The prisoners of self-indulgence and 
selfishness came out of their dungeons, and 
were astonished to find how full of light the 
world is. In short, the war taught multitudes 
for the first time the secret of a happy life. 

The idea of happiness through service is an 
old doctrine, but many had held it as a theory 
rather than a working principle of daily life. 
They accepted the New Testament as a book of 
divine wisdom, but they had never been initiated 
into its mysteries. It is one thing to read about 
Jesus washing His disciples' feet, and it is an- 
other thing to follow His example. It is one 
thing to applaud the action of the Good 
Samaritan, and it is another thing to go and do 
likewise. In the days of peace and increasing 
wealth, we had become more and more a pleas- 
ure-loving people. Selfishness was our be- 
setting sin. Personal ease and comfort was the 
summum bonum of multitudes both young and 
old. We did not like to be interfered with in 
the carrying out of our own programs, we re- 
sented any suggestion that we ought to give up 
anything we liked to have or do. And so, many 
of us were in the deep ruts of self-indulgence. 
Our life was more selfish than we knew. The 
average man gave all his time to the building 
of his own fortune, and the average woman 
thought too exclusively of the things that be- 
longed to her. War laid its rude hand upon us 
and pulled us out of our ease and egotism. 
War compelled us to recognize the glory of do- 
ing things for others. It opened our eyes as a 



THE JOY OF SEEVICE 65 

nation to the truth which Jesus of Nazareth 
long ago proclaimed. The war was a mighty 
preacher, and one of the great lessons it illus- 
trated and drove home is that the way of serv- 
ice is the way of life. 

The idea of servantship is written in vivid 
characters across the pages of the New Testa- 
ment. Jesus of Nazareth loved to think of Him- 
self as a servant. The principle of domination 
was abhorrent to Him, and He saw that it is 
the root cause of much of the world's woe. 
The way out of our conflicts and distresses, He 
said, lies through the principle of service. One 
of His sayings which sank deepest into the 
hearts of His disciples was: " Whosoever would 
become great among you shall be your min- 
ister; and whosoever would be first among you 
shall be your servant." He did not impose this 
idea on others, and refuse to follow it Himself. 
He proclaimed Himself a servant. " The son 
of man came not to be ministered unto, but to 
minister, and to give his life a ransom for 
many." " I am in the midst of you as he that 
serveth." On the last night of His earthly life, 
He summed up what He had taught His fol- 
lowers concerning His mission by taking a 
basin and a towel and washing twelve men's 
feet. After He had done it He said to tUem : 
" Ye call me Master and Lord : and ye say well; 
for so I am. I have given you an example, that 
ye also should do as I have done to you." 
Jesus stands before the world as the world's 
great servant. He leads mankind because He 



66 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

serves. He masters the ages because He min- 
isters to men. It is evidence that He came 
from God and went back to God because He 
was willing to become the servant of all. It is 
the servantship of Jesus which thrills the heart 
of Paul, and makes him proud to write him- 
self always: " Paul the servant of Jesus Christ." 
When Paul thinks of Jesus he is awestruck by 
the thought that He took upon Himself " the 
form of a servant." When he urges men to 
become godlike he can furnish no stronger 
motive than the example of Jesus : " Bear ye one 
another's burdens and so fulfill the law of 
Christ." 

The great Teacher who spoke often of serv- 
ice spoke also often of joy. He was a man of 
sorrows and acquainted with grief, but in His 
sorrows and grief He was always rejoicing. 
From Nazareth to Golgotha He walked with a 
shining face. The tragedy of the world's sin 
did not quench the light in His eyes. He en- 
joyed life to the utmost. It was His cheerful- 
ness which was one of the secrets of His fascina- 
tion, and also one of the causes of His cruci- 
fixion. The glum-faced, pious folk of His day 
suspected Him because He was so happy. How 
could a man whose heart was right with God 
go to so many dinner parties and have such an 
enjoyable time with all sorts and stripes of peo- 
ple? Even after the persecution became bitter 
and venomous His heart remained jubilant. He 
was still a servant, going about doing good. In 
the upper chamber with the shadow of the cross 



THE JOY OF SEEVICE 67 

upon His face, the springs of happiness in His 
heart still kept flowing. He had enough for 
Himself and for all. " These things have I 
spoken unto you that my joy may be in you, 
and that your joy may be fulfilled." He as- 
sured them that notwithstanding the hardships 
to which He was calling them, "Your heart 
shall rejoice and your joy no one taketh away 
from you." He told them that they could al- 
ways call upon Him for new stores of gladness. 
"Ask and ye shall receive, that your joy may be 
fulfilled." In the face of a world that was hos- 
tile to Him, and bleeding from the wounds 
which wicked men had inflicted on Him, He 
said to the men who were to carry on His work : 
"In the world ye have tribulation, but be of 
good cheer: I have overcome the world." All 
through the war we were in the midst of tribu- 
lations, but our hearts did not lose the art of 
rejoicing. We had a joy which the world had 
not given us, and which the world could not 
take away. It was the joy which God imparts 
to His children who are willing to serve. 

If it is possible in time of war to be lifted 
high above despondency and gloom by a joy 
which heaven gives to those who serve their 
fellows, why should we not maintain this glow 
of soul through all the years of peace? We 
were happy when we were thinking of the 
orphans and widows of Europe and working for 
them, and why should we not make ourselves 
happy by a fuller ministry to the poor people in 
America? For years we carried on our heart 



68 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

the burden of Belgium's woe, making- sacrifices 
that we might save the hves of Belgian babies. 
Why should we not carry on our heart con- 
stantly the burden of suffering women in our 
own country, and work harder to save the lives 
of American babies? We have found new joy 
in contending for the rights of people far away; 
are there no people in our own community 
whose rights have been denied them, and whose 
emancipation we might achieve? The women 
of America have never been happier than when 
they were feeding soldiers and sailors in our 
canteens. What a vast amount of dishwashing 
has been done with thankfulness which would 
have been shirked as drudgery before the war. 
But if it is glorious to serve men in times of 
war, it must be equally glorious to serve them 
in times of peace. The human heart remains 
unchanged through all the generations, and al- 
ways does it crave the sympathy and considera- 
tion which have been poured out so lavishly 
through the last five awful years. There is an 
enormous amount of work to be done, and every 
one should be willing to do his bit. Why should 
this service of humanity be considered the ex- 
clusive duty of the churches? In the time of 
war no one suggested that only church members 
be called upon to become servants. The call 
went forth to everybody. The appeal was made 
to every man and every woman and every child. 
In time of peace the call is no less general, and 
the appeal is no less urgent. Why should any 
class of people slip back into their former selfish 



THE JOY OF SERVICE 69 

mode of life? Why should not all who have 
learned to work continue to work until the sun- 
set hour? A selfish life is always an unhappy 
life. God reserves the sweetest raptures of the 
heart for those who live for others. It is only 
when the soul is consecrated to a noble cause 
that its faculties develop, and life mounts to 
richness and power. The joy of service is too 
beautiful and divine to be permitted to vanish 
from those sections of society to which it had 
before the war been a stranger. The war hav- 
ing pushed us into the discovery that the New 
Testament doctrine of service is a truth from 
heaven, let us hold on to it, and compel it to 
bless us all the way. 

Our Republic has played gloriously the part 
of a servant. As soon as it became clear that 
without our assistance the Allies must go down, 
we trampled on all traditions and crucified our 
reluctances, and placed ourselves at their serv- 
ice. The aid which France had rendered us in 
the years long ago came back afresh to our 
minds, and the joy of our nation's heart vibrated 
in General Pershing's voice when at the tomb 
of Lafayette he said: " Lafayette, we are here." 
The United States was in the war solely as a 
servant — a helper of others. We did not fight 
for territory or money or glory. Our only 
ambition was to help. The Allies were bearing 
a heavy burden, and we got our shoulder under 
the burden, and thus fulfilled the law of Christ. 
It was this willingness to serve which accounts 
for the wonderful sense of exaltation which per- 



70 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

vaded the land. A whole people consciously 
entered into the joy of the Lord. 

If we are true to our high calling, we shall al- 
ways remain a servant. It is America's high 
mission among the nations to be the servant of 
all. We are big and rich and strong, and there- 
fore our service should be constant and gener- 
ous. There is no permanent happiness for us 
as a people unless we go up and down the earth 
doing good. Our foreordained place is in a 
League of Nations because God created us to 
serve. 



VI 

THE NECESSITY OF SACRIFICE 

CHRISTIANITY is the religion of the 
cross. The cross is the symbol of sacri- 
fice. Sacrifice is the surrender of one 
thing for the sake of something else, the giving 
up of an object in behalf of an object that is 
higher. In its highest form it is the laying 
down of life for others. At the center of the 
Christian religion stands a cross with a dying 
man hanging on it. He is dying in order to 
build a better world. 

According to the New Testament the cruci- 
fixion is a picture of the working out of an 
eternal principle. Jesus of Nazareth died on 
the cross in the first century, but the Lamb of 
God has been slain since the foundation of the 
world. The suffering on Calvary was not 
momentary and isolated, it has been going on 
ever since man has lived on the earth. It is a 
principle of the divine government that men 
shall be lifted to higher planes of thought and 
conduct by suffering. This suffering takes place 
not only in the lives of men, but also in the heart 
of God. The Creator of the universe is a suf- 

71 



72 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

fering God. In all the afflictions of His chil- 
dren He Himself is afflicted, and His sufferings 
with and for men are revealed to the world in 
the death of His Son. This is the central doc- 
trine of the Christian religion. 

The idea of self-sacrifice is naturally repellent 
to a selfish heart. The speculative intellect has 
always quarrelled with it. To the Greek think- 
ers of the first century, the cross was foolish- 
ness, and so it has been to all minds of the 
Greek type down to the present hour. To the 
Jews of Jesus' day, the cross was a stumbling 
block. They could not see anything glorious in 
a crucified Messiah. Peter was a representa- 
tive Jew when at Ca^sarea Philippi he cried out 
in fiery incredulity on Jesus' announcement that 
He was going to be crucified, " This shall 
never happen to you, Lord ! " Every drop of 
blood in his body rose up in protest against the 
monstrous idea. Through nineteen hundred 
years the Jewish race has been stumbling over 
the rock of a crucified Messiah. 

In the modern mind the doctrine of vicarious 
suffering has aroused manifold objections. To 
many it seems incredible that God should save 
the world through the death of His Son. It is 
unjust, men say, that an innocent man should 
die for the guilty, that a holy man should die for 
the wicked. The cross is offensive because it 
stands for an idea which cannot be justified — 
men say — at the bar of reason. To some the 
cross is even repulsive, and all talk about the 
blood of Jesus is degrading and revolting. The 



THE NECESSITY OF SACEIFICE 73 

whole idea of sacrifice has been disparaged or 
repudiated by numerous groups of influential 
modern thinkers. 

A popular interpretation of the doctrine of 
evolution has fortified the prejudice against the 
New Testament teaching of the cross. When 
evolution, years ago, was defined as " a con- 
tinuous progressive change according to cer- 
tain laws by means of resident forces," it was at 
once assumed by superficial thinkers that prog- 
ress becomes inevitable by the automatic work- 
ing out of the vital energies which are stored 
up in the physical and human creations. The 
unfolding of a race of men is as natural and in- 
evitable as the unfolding of a flower. All the 
evolutionary processes are certain to be upward, 
and the necessity for sacrificial effort is done 
away with. And so we have had a deal of 
shallow optimism. Men have believed that 
things were bound to come out all right no 
matter what they did, and believing this, many 
of them made no serious effort to keep things 
from coming out wrong. Progress is a pleas- 
ing idea to play with, and for a generation and 
more, men played with it to their immense satis- 
faction. The old idea of a race having before it 
the chance of losing itself was put down among 
the things called antiquated, and the doctrine of 
the cross was discarded as a speculation of a 
school of theologians whose ideas had been 
outgrown. 

For a long time this philosophy seemed ade- 
quate. There was no doubt that humanity was 



74 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

getting on. All the nations were progressing 
in the sciences and arts. In every Christian 
land wealth was accumulating, and evidences of 
material prosperity were abundant. The com- 
forts of life were yearly multiplied, and enlarg- 
ing classes of people lived in luxury. Civiliza- 
tion was a favourite theme for orators and 
essayists, and we spoke of " modern " civiliza- 
tion with an accent that revealed the mounting 
pride of our heart. 

Then all at once something happened. The 
wagon in which we had packed our treasures 
began to stall and then to run down hill. The 
ship in which we had been sailing up a lovely 
river began to drift down stream. The race of 
men of whom we had been so proud began to 
act like barbarians, and the civilization which 
we had exalted above the civilizations of Greece 
and Rome began to crumble. Our idea of 
evolution was seen to be fallacious. There is 
devolution as well as evolution. There are 
processes which work downward as well as up- 
ward. We can plunge to death as easily as 
climb to life. Our belief in progress as a god 
was overthrown. Some of the dull doctrines 
which we had tossed aside when the sun was 
shining now shone with a strange light under a 
sky that was black. We were irresistibly driven 
to consider the old Christian doctrine of vicari- 
ous suffering. The day came when it was clear 
to us all that if this world was to be saved, its 
salvation was possible only through sacrifice. 
We saw with our own eyes that if a step for- 



THE NECESSITY OF SACEIFICB 76 

ward was to be taken, then some men must die 
for others. 

War cannot be carried on a day without con- 
tinuous and incalculable sacrifice. A soldier is 
called to live the sacrificial life. He must sur- 
render all the things he holds dearest. First of 
all he must give up his home, with all of its com- 
forts and every one of its luxuries. He must 
say good-bye to father and mother, brother and 
sister, it may be to wife and children. From all 
whom he loves best he must be separated. He 
must submit to the dreary monotony of the 
camp, and to the fatigue of the march. The idea 
of comfort or ease cannot be in all his thoughts. 
He must give up his liberty, and permit himself 
to be ordered from one point to another as 
though he were an ox or a mule. He must lay 
down rights which are as precious as life. He 
must face the guns of the foe. He must run 
the risk of losing his arms, his legs, his eyes. 
Day after day he must take this risk. He must 
stand up daily in the face of awful perils, it may 
be for long months, and it is not permitted him 
to run or to hide. He must be willing to lay 
down his life. War means the laying down of 
life. There is no war without the shedding of 
blood. Every soldier who marches to the front 
goes knowing that he may never come back. 
Every nation which went into the war went in 
knowing the awful price which would be ex- 
acted. When America declared war we knew 
we were incurring a debt which would surpass 
any which we had ever known. We knew that 



76 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

tens of thousands, possibly hundreds of thou- 
sands, of our boys would come home crippled 
and maimed. We knew that many thousands 
would never come back. And yet we went in. 
Great Britain knew what war meant, and yet 
she went in. Little Belgium knew what re- 
sistance to Germany would cost, and yet she re- 
sisted. She was willing to pay the price. So 
was France. So was Italy. So was Roumania. 
The nations which came into the war late had 
the opportunity of measuring in cold blood the 
size of the sacrifice which would be demanded, 
but they nevertheless went in. We Americans 
did not rush in in a frenzy of passion, in a fury 
of vengeance, we walked in deliberately, know- 
ing what we were walking into, and we walked 
in with unhesitating step. We were ready to 
pay the price. 

Why? Because it had become evident that 
the world could not be saved without the 
shedding of our blood. We had sent silver and 
gold, munitions and food, but these were not 
sufificient. It was necessary for us to contribute 
life. If Belgium and France were to be rescued, 
then American boys had to die. American 
parents had to give their sons up. The old idea 
of vicarious suffering became suddenly modern 
and real. W^e learned what it meant in its 
agony and we also were forced to acknowledge 
its inevitableness. There was no escape. Many 
men had endeavoured to prevent the war, and 
numerous efforts had been put forth to stop it. 
Rulers and diplomats had tried and failed. 



THE NECESSITY OF SACEIFICE 77 

Socialists and Peace Societies had tried and 
failed, the Hague Tribunal had in it no power 
to deliver, the Universities of Europe were all 
impotent, the educated and cultured classes 
could devise no way of escape, the Christian 
Church stood as one paralyzed. There was no 
power under heaven whereby it was possible 
for humanity to be redeemed, except the power 
of sacrifice, sacrifice running throug^h the entire 
gamut of all possible expression. To save the 
world it was necessary for millions of women to 
suffer, and for millions of men to die. 

They did not die for themselves. They died 
for others. They died for us. They died for 
truth and justice. They died that there might 
be a better world. Here certainly is a clear 
demonstration that the principle of sacrifice is 
embedded in the structure of the world, and that 
it is the Divine will that the life of mankind shall 
be lifted to higher levels through the willing- 
ness of men to die for others. A professor of 
Oxford University has told us how deeply im- 
pressed he has been by the thought that so 
many young men whom he had known in the 
classroom had died for England— had died for 
him. The idea of sacrifice illustrated in the 
death of those young men came to the pro- 
fessor with the force of a fresh revelation. 
Never again will it be easy for any of us to 
speak lightly of vicarious sacrifice, or to repudi- 
ate the Christian doctrine of the cross. 

The teaching of the New Testament on the 
death of Jesus has sometimes been made re- 



78 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

pellent by the inadequate forms in which it has 
been presented. When it is made to seem that 
God saves the world by inflicting sufferings on 
His Son, while He Himself holds aloof in the 
deep abysses of eternal blessedness, the heart is 
justified in entering a protest. But this is not 
the teaching of the New Testament. The Chris- 
tian doctrine is that God the Father suffers in 
the death of Jesus. God so loved the world that 
He gave His only Son. His love was so vast 
that He was willing to pay the price which the 
death of Jesus cost Him. Certainly the suffering 
of the Father was not less than the suffering of 
the Son. The Father suffered in the Son. Who 
during the last four years have suffered most — 
parents or their sons? God has a father's heart, 
and this is sufficient to indicate to us what He 
suffered in the death of Jesus. 

The significance of the cross of Jesus has also 
been lowered by isolating Jesus from all His 
brethren. It has often been made to appear 
that the world is saved by the sufferings of 
Jesus alone, but there is danger of misconcep- 
tion at this point. The world is indeed saved 
because on the throne of the universe there is a 
God whose heart is afflicted in our afflictions, 
and because that love has been made manifest 
in the sufferings and death of Jesus on Gol- 
gotha, but it does not follow that the world can 
dispense with the sacrificial sufferings of others. 
The principle of sacrifice runs through all life. 
It is a principle of God's life, and also of human 
life. We are created in God's image, and there- 



THE NECESSITY OF SACEIFICE 79 

fore like Him we suffer. Jesua is our brother, 
and therefore like Him we are made perfect 
through the things which we suffer. Paul had 
a lofty conception of the unique personality of 
Jesus, but he did not hesitate to write to the 
Colossians : " I rejoice in my sufferings, and fill 
up that which is lacking of the afflictions of 
Christ." Many attempts have been made to 
evade the plain meaning of those words, but 
why should we want to evade it? Why not ac- 
cept with gratitude the glorious fact that it is 
possible for us to fill up that which is lacking 
of the afflictions of Christ? The sufferings of 
the man Jesus on the cross were surely not able 
of themselves to bring the race where it is to- 
day. Suppose that Paul had not died, nor 
James nor Peter nor Stephen, nor any one of 
the hundreds of martyrs who laid down their 
life for humanity in the first three Christian 
centuries, would the power of the Roman Em- 
pire have been broken? The might of Pagan 
Rome was shattered not simply by what Jesus 
suffered in the year 29, but by what all His fol- 
lowers suffered up to the time when the Roman 
Emperor became a Christian. Thousands of 
obscure and loyal men and women by proving 
faithful unto death filled up that which was lack- 
ing of the afflictions of Christ. Christ's suffer- 
ings were continued in the lives of these dis- 
ciples. It was by the continuation of His bloody 
sweat in their agony that the victory was won. 
Much of our perplexity comes from our shallow 
conception of Christ. Once grasp the idea that 



80 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

we are a part of His body, and it becomes clear 
that in His sufferings we also must suffer. It 
is only as men suffer that they enter into the life 
of Christ, and it is by means of this suffering 
that the life of mankind is purified and strength- 
ened. There was an early Christian hymn 
which Paul loved to hum to himself in prison, 
and which he hummed aloud in the last letter 
he ever wrote to the dearest of his friends: 
" If we died with him, we shall also live 
with him, if we endure we shall also reign with 
him." 

The sufferings of men in the early centuries 
were not sufficient to save civilization in the 
twentieth century. Each generation must pay 
its own bills. Each age must drink of the bitter 
cup. The men who died in 1914 were not able 
to break the power of Potsdam, men in 1915 had 
to fill up what was lacking of the afflictions of 
the men who suffered the year before. Men in 
1916, and still others in 1917, and others still in 
1918 had to drink of the cup of which those who 
had gone before them had partaken. Belgium 
had suffered much, and so had France, and so 
had Great Britain, but their sufferings were not 
sufficient to attain the desired end. It was 
necessary for our Republic to fill up that which 
was lacking of the afflictions of our European 
allies. Our suffering was vicarious. We suf- 
fered for others. God said to us : "Are you able 
to drink of the cup? " and our reply was: " We 
are able." 

If, then, the principle of sacrifice is a principle 



THE NECESSITY OF SACEIFICE 81 

of the divine government, it is operative in 
times of peace as well as in war. In peace it is 
often covered up, and men act on the principle 
of self-indulgence, but when war comes we are 
at once put to school to learn afresh that the 
principle of self-sacrifice is the central principle 
of life. Without a willingness to surrender 
that which is lower for that which is higher, no 
progress is possible. Unless men are ready to 
spend time and money and strength for the 
things which society needs, those blessings can 
never be secured. It was only by multitudi- 
nous and great sacrifices that the war was at last 
won. The victories of peace can be obtained 
only at the same cost. What is the matter with 
our American cities that they are so shabby and 
disappointing? It is because there is a lack of 
the sacrificial spirit. City government is often 
corrupt and inefficient because the so-called best 
citizens refuse to take office. Their refusal is 
due to their unwillingness to sacrifice them- 
selves for the public good. It is surely a sacri- 
fice for any man of sensitive heart to subject 
himself to the mauling and mud slinging of a 
political campaign. It means a sacrifice of per- 
sonal comfort, and often of financial income, for 
a man to serve his fellow-citizens in office. The 
sacrifice is too great for the average man to 
make. But when we entered into the war our 
best citizens were foremost in their willingness 
to make sacrifices. Income became of sec- 
ondary importance and personal convenience 
and comfort counted for nothing at all. There 



82 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

was only one thing worth living for, and that 
was to win the war. The war is ended, and 
now the only thing worth living for is to win the 
peace. Peace is to be won only by continuous 
and enormous sacrifices. We talk glibly about 
making the world safe for democracy, but 
democracy itself is impossible unless the spirit 
of self-sacrifice abides in the hearts of the peo- 
ple. No other forms of government demand 
such general and heavy sacrifices as democracy. 
Unless men in large numbers are willing to sur- 
render money and time and energy and com- 
fort and reputation, we cannot as a republic be 
saved. It was a sorry spectacle and one which 
we do well to ponder, the spectacle of one man 
after another who had sacrificed his financial in- 
terests for the good of the nation during the 
war by giving to the public the very best that 
was in him, saying openly almost as soon as the 
armistice had been signed: " I must now hurry 
back, and give myself, as before the war, to 
the building of my own fortune." The reason 
why free government is so often a scandal is be- 
cause our best citizens call it no disgrace to 
devote their entire time and strength to the 
prospering of their own affairs. There never 
would have been a war had there been in peace 
the same spirit of self-sacrifice which was mani- 
fested all through the war. In every country the 
average man was content to pursue the even 
tenor of his way, thinking largely of his own 
pleasures and ambitions, and giving no heed to 
the ceaseless schemings of groups of selfish men 



THE NECESSITY OF SACRIFICE 83 

which were to render soon or late a world 
catastrophe inevitable. 

Here then is one of the cardinal lessons of the 
war — the necessity for great and constant self- 
sacrifice. In no other way is it possible for 
humanity to be saved. The way of life is the 
way of the cross. That is true in war — it is 
equally true in peace. By the cross we con- 
quer. That is true on the battle-field; it is no 
less true in the church and in the state. Our 
soldiers and sailors have been living on the prin- 
ciple of self-sacrifice. They know now what it 
means. They know how essential it is. They 
themselves have all made sacrifices, and they 
know that many of their comrades made sacri- 
fices far greater than theirs. There are many 
great lessons which no doubt multitudes of sol- 
diers failed to learn in the war, but it is doubtful 
if a man in the army or navy will come out of 
the service without having a changed view of 
the value and beauty of self-sacrifice. Certain 
parts of religion will to many men remain ob- 
scure, but this is a doctrine which every sailor 
and soldier will understand. He will not only 
understand it, he will believe it. If he acts on 
his belief, if he is as ready in peace to lay down 
his life for others as he was ready in war, who 
can doubt that we are going to have a better and 
happier world.? 



VII 

THE MAJESTY OF THE COMMON MAN 

THE last war was the only war which 
gave every man a chance to show what 
was in him. It summoned the whole 
human race to the field of action. In olden 
times wars were fought by professional soldiers, 
and the men engaged on the battle-field consti- 
tuted only a small fraction of the male popula- 
tion. Equipment was light and simple, and to 
prepare it did not tax the economic resources of 
a nation. But in the twentieth century war be- 
came more than ever before a contest between 
entire peoples. Soldiers were enlisted by the 
millions, and other millions of workers were 
mobilized behind the lines in order to furnish 
the enormous stock of supplies which was daily 
demanded. 

At first the world's attention was focussed 
upon the men who bore arms. In every war it 
is the man who fights who comes at once to the 
front. Every combatant nation bent all its first 
energies to the raising of immense armies, and it 
was upon these that the eyes of the people were 
fixed. The army and navy were the two giants 

84 



THE MAJESTY OF THE COMMON MAN 85 

who carried on their broad shoulders the weight 
of the world. 

But it soon became evident that other men 
are as important as sailors and soldiers. The 
man who manufactures munitions is as essential 
as is the man who makes use of them; and so 
for a season the thought of the world went out 
toward munition factories. For the first time 
in history, plain, ordinary workers were eulo- 
gized in the headlines of newspapers. The 
whole world confessed that without these muni- 
tion workers the war could never be won. The 
makers of guns and explosives were granted a 
dignity and honour which had once been 
granted to kings. 

But munitions are not enough. They are in- 
dispensable, but not more indispensable than are 
the means of transportation. Of what value 
are explosives and guns unless they can be car- 
ried where they are needed? The cry went up : 
"Ships, more ships, still more ships!" If the 
world was to be saved it would be saved by the 
builders of ships. And so for weeks we kept 
our eyes on the shipyards, listening to every 
stroke of the hammer, praising the mechanics, 
and encouraging them by assurances that with- 
out them the cause of humanity was lost. Mu- 
nition makers and mechanics were seen to be 
Atlases on whose mighty shoulders war had 
rolled the world. But what are ships without 
coal? Wars in modern times are won by fuel. 
The coal miner is as indispensable as the general 
and admiral, and should he fail humanity would 



86 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

be doomed. For the first time in history the 
men who work underground, hidden from hu- 
man sight, removed from human concern, rose 
into the Hmehght, and upon them was fastened 
the gaze of the world. Leading statesmen 
spoke eulogies on their industry and patriotism, 
and editors declared daily that upon the miners 
depended the outcome of the war. 

But of what worth is coal for the engines if 
there is no fuel for the human body? It is man 
after all upon whom the whole world is sus- 
pended. He is the Titan who works the won- 
ders, and he cannot work them unless he is fed. 
Food, then, is the prime essential in the winning 
of a war. Without food neither the sailor nor 
the soldier, neither the mechanic nor the muni- 
tion worker, neither the miner nor the forester 
can exist, and so after all it is the farmer who is 
the Atlas who carries on his shoulders the huge 
world-burden. For weeks we were told by the 
newspapers that it was food which would win 
the war, and every day the farmer rose higher 
and higher in the world's esteem and honour. 
City populations which had not thought of the 
farmer for years now thought of him daily, and 
every heart came to feel that without the aid of 
the man with the hoe the fate of civilization was 
sealed. This passing round the human circle, 
bowing now to this group and now to that, 
placing laurel wreaths on brows which had 
never before worn them, and lifting obscure 
men to a renown of which they had never 
dreamed, was one of the most dramatic inci- 



THE MAJESTY OF THE COMMON MAN 87 

dents of the war. If one should cull from the 
files of old newspapers all the various things 
which we were told would win the war, we 
should find a list long enough to call for the 
labour of every class of men and women in the 
land. 

Nor was the language the speech of exaggera- 
tion. It was literally true that without the 
hearty cooperation of all sorts and conditions 
of men the war could not have been won. We 
now see as never before that any considerable 
group of workers, no matter what their occupa- 
tion, can, if they choose, so handicap a nation in 
its military operations as to incapacitate it for 
the successful prosecution of a war. Society 
has become so complex, and men's lives are so 
intertwined and inter-related that when any so- 
cial group refuses to work, the whole fabric of 
national life is thrown into chaos. 

What the war did for men it did also for 
women. From the start it was apparent that 
for the winning of the war women were no less 
indispensable than men. Without the French 
women what could the French men have done? 
Without the British women Great Britain would 
have inevitably succumbed. Without our 
American women we should have been para- 
lyzed and undone. If victory is to be won by 
any nation in war, the full strength of its wom- 
anhood must be utilized. 

Nor is it the women of high social circles 
alone who are needed. All classes of women 
are indispensable from the highest down to the 



88 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

lowest. There is a demand for the rich, and 
there is a demand for the poor. Women of dis- 
tinction can do much, and so also can women 
who are commonplace and obscure. When the 
time came to make munitions there was a 
stream of women constantly moving from the 
factories and kitchens into the cities where 
munitions were made. And without the united 
labours of this great army of women the war 
could not have been won. Women who had 
toiled in lowly places and who had often felt 
that they were of slight value to the world, now 
thrilled with the thought that they were making 
a contribution to human history, that they were 
soldiers fighting for liberty and justice. Their 
plain, colourless lives were glorified by being 
dedicated to the forwarding of a noble cause. 
The soul of a woman was like unto the soul of a 
man. Like a man she threw herself whole- 
heartedly into the glorious task of making the 
world safe for democracy, and like a man she 
was eager and proud to do her bit. Enthusiasm 
burned nowhere with a hotter or holier flame 
than in the hearts of plain and humble women 
of whom the world had taken no notice. The 
tremendous importance of unimportant people 
is one of the facts which the last four years have 
rendered forever vivid. We were brought to 
see that every human being has gifts and capaci- 
ties which are indispensable, and that it is only 
as every one of us is ready to do his bit that 
gigantic undertakings can be accomplished. 
Personal responsibility was rolled by the war 



THE MAJESTY OF THE COMMON MAN 89 

on every heart. There was something for 
everybody to do. It was not necessary to be 
brilHant or gifted to win a place at the work- 
table. Each one could use whatever talent had 
been entrusted to him. Much of the work was 
prosaic, and prosaic people could do it with 
efficiency. Without an incalculable amount of 
prosaic drudgery no war can possibly be won. 
The Government went from door to door, up 
and down the land, saying to every man, and 
also to every woman : What can you do? What 
can you do best? What have you been trained 
to do? For tens of thousands it was a new 
experience, examining oneself to ascertain what 
one could do best. It quickened many a soul 
into new life. Men and women arose to higher 
things. A fresh ambition came, and with the 
ambition a serene joy. It is a delight to feel 
that there is a place for us on the earth, and that 
there is really important work which we can do. 
In the war a trumpet call came to the com- 
mon man, and the common man responded. 
His response in every land was magnificent. 
This war will not go down in history as a war 
of brilliant admirals or generals, it will be re- 
nowned forever as the war in which the common 
man revealed his soul. The wonder of the war 
is not a general or an admiral, but the common 
man. He has given the world a revelation of 
the temper and fiber of the human spirit. He 
has made us see the shining splendour of the 
human heart. Some of us in times of peace 
had become cynical and despondent. We had 



90 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT ITS 

lost our enthusiasm over the common people. 
We had surrendered some of our faith in human 
nature. The schools of pessimistic writers have 
had in recent decades a large following. Many- 
gifted teachers have had a gift for seeing only 
the dismal. A vast amount of literature was 
vitiated by the poison of despair. Every day 
somebody reminded us of the sordidness of 
human nature and of the decadence of the 
higher powers of the soul. 

It was declared by those who sat in lofty 
places that our civilization had eaten out our 
heart, that men brought up in offices no longer 
possessed the fighting edge. It was alleged by 
those who made a pretense of knowing that lux- 
ury had sapped the strength of all our youth, 
and that the love of selfish ease had devoured 
the old heroism which the Romans knew. A 
fierce indictment was brought against our civ- 
ilization, and all hope for the future seemed to 
be built on shifting sand. 

Then came the war, and at once millions of 
men arose to prove that the pessimistic philos- 
ophers are wrong, that the cynics who sneer at 
human nature are stupid, and that the wise men 
who see everywhere signs of decadence are 
blind. From the first day of the war to the last 
we had a continuous revelation of the grandeur 
of the human soul. It was demonstrated every 
hour of every day that man is as brave now as 
he has ever been since his creation. No Greek 
or Roman of the olden time can teach the man 
of to-day anything in the book of courage. 



THE MAJESTY OF THE COMMON MAN 91 

There are no heroes in history who will outflash 
in glory the heroes of the past four years. 
Never were soldiers called upon to face such 
weapons as were our soldiers, but they faced 
them without quailing. It had been said often 
that the machinery of slaughter has been made 
so frightful that human nature would refuse to 
stand up against it. The men who said that do 
not understand man. They do not know that 
he is the child of God, and that in the midst of 
danger he can be depended on to act like a god. 
The war has demonstrated that there is no form 
of virtue on this planet as abundant as courage. 
It is universal. All nations have it, and they 
have it apparently to the same degree. The 
war was not able to show that the Frenchman 
is less brave than the German, or that the Brit- 
isher is less brave than the Frenchman, or that 
the American is less brave than any of them. 
In the realm of heroism all the nations went 
over the top. There was nothing too hazard- 
ous for men to face, there was nothing too awful 
for them to endure. Never before had men 
been ordered to fight above the clouds. They 
did it with glee. Never before had men been 
asked to fight below the surface of the sea. 
They did it without a tremor. Never before 
had men been asked to advance against machine 
guns of such deadly construction, and never be- 
fore had they been asked to face asphyxiating 
and poisonous gases, but they marched forward 
unafraid. Stories of heroism have almost ceased 
to thrill us — they are so common. Heroes are 



92 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

no longer conspicuous — there are so many of 
them. The brave days which we have seen sur- 
pass all the brave days of old. It has been re- 
vealed to us that in the soul of the common man 
there is a spirit which can strike the stars. We 
know now that under the coat of the plainest 
man there beats a heart whose pulses can be 
counted on to overthrow the strongest citadels 
of evil. Most of the men in all of the armies 
were made of common stuff. They were just 
ordinary mortals, called from the office and 
shop, the factory and the mill, the mine and the 
farm. No one considered them remarkable. 
Their own town did not call them great. To 
themselves they appeared exceedingly common- 
place, and commonplace they were. And yet 
when the hour for action came they awed the 
world by what they did. There are many weak- 
nesses and vices which come to the front in time 
of war, and these are likely to catch and hold 
the eye. We should not allow the vulgarity 
and vileness of individuals to blot out the glory 
and majesty of human nature on the whole. 
What a shining page has been written in human 
achievement before our eyes ! What revelations 
of the spiritual splendour which is hidden deep 
in ordinary people ! AVhat fortitude, what con- 
stancy, what persistency, what unselfishness, 
what nobility, what endurance, what loyalty, 
what devotion, what dauntlessness, what mag- 
nificent forth-puttings of the intrepid human 
spirit! And above all else what cheerfulness, 
what good humour, what a genius for smiling 



THE MAJESTY OF THE COMMON MAN 93 

along roads which were fearful, what uncon- 
querable powers of hope, what inexhaustible 
stores of energy and determination! It was 
not a man here or there who showed these shin- 
ing traits — they were common. Heroes did not 
appear as single spies — they rushed across the 
world in battalions. They romped over the 
fields of blood! They laughed at death! 
" Killed in action " — those are the three words 
written over tens of thousands of graves. They 
are the graves of just common soldiers. Stand- 
ing by these graves we involuntarily exclaim : 

" What a piece of work is a man ! how noble in 
reason ! how infinite in faculty ! in form and 
moving how express and admirable! in action 
how like an angel! in apprehension how like a 
god!" 

It is this demonstrated worth and majesty of 
the common man which is going to lead to a 
reconstruction of the world. We can never go 
back to the world as it was before the war. 
Many of the old things have passed away and 
they will never more return. Classes which 
were once ignored or disparaged have a new 
sense of their dignity and importance. During 
the war they were told that they were essential 
to the life of the world, and they will now be- 
lieve that they are essential to the life of the 
world in the days of peace. In war time their 
labour was appreciated and exalted. In peace 
they will expect equal recognition and reward. 
A new consciousness of human dignity has come 
into existence, and with this we must reckon 



94 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

through all coming years. When the nations 
were fighting, the world kept ringing with beau- 
tiful words about liberty and justice, and polit- 
ical leaders grew eloquent on the rights of the 
weak. Those words are not likely to be for- 
gotten. The working classes were not neg- 
lected in the war, and they will refuse to be 
neglected now. Labour will never again con- 
sent to fill the place assigned it before 1914. 
Wage workers will demand a fuller and freer 
life. The common man has a mind, a heart, 
and a soul. His mind must be cultivated, his 
heart must be fed, his soul must have a chance 
to grow. These are his rights. He has con- 
tributed to the saving of civilization and now 
civilization must do something additional for 
him. His innate gifts are splendid, his capacity 
for achievement is amazing. He has proved 
himself a loyal and eflficient son of our Republic, 
and he must now be given a higher place at the 
banquet table. 

In the days of reconstruction there will be 
many incidents to chill our hearts. A new-born 
sense of importance is likely to show itself in un- 
lovely ways. Individuals and groups will be- 
come bumptious and domineering. There will 
be many a display of selfishness and sordid 
greed. Common men as well as uncommon 
men have many exasperating characteristics, 
and the crowd is as capable of folly as are the 
anointed few. Thousands of men, petted and 
pampered through the war, will have extrava- 
gant expectations, and will exhibit all the ugly 



THE MAJESTY OF THE COMMON MAN 95 

ways of a child that has been spoiled. Men who 
have been noble on the field of battle will in 
some instances disappoint us. Soldiers and 
sailors when they return to civil life do not in 
every case prove as noble in peace as they were 
in war. But none of these unsavoury revelations 
should daunt us, because we know that the heart 
of the common man is sound. We trusted him 
in the hour of the world's supreme crisis, and he 
did not disappoint us. He is not going to dis- 
appoint us now. The common man is coura- 
geous. He will overcome all the obstacles he 
meets on the upward way. He is naturally 
magnanimous. His soul is great. In dark 
moods he is ugly and unreasonable, but when he 
comes to himself, he loves the thing that is fair. 
He is persistent and patient. He will bear 
heavy burdens without fainting. He is loyal 
and devoted, and we can count on him to the 
end. He is a son of the ]\Iost High, and a 
brother of Jesus Christ; we must deal with him 
justly and respect him as a fellow-member of the 
household of God. 



VIII 

THE CONQUERING STRENGTH OF 
COMRADESHIP 

IN a famous religious song written many 
centuries ago, it is said that one shall chase 
a thousand, and that two shall put ten 
thousand to flight. Thus early in human his- 
tory was there discovered the miracle-working 
power in the bringing of men together for the 
performance of a common task. The mathe- 
matics which is valid in the realm of matter is 
left behind us when we cross over into the king- 
dom of the personal. Ten spikes may be ten 
times more efficacious than one spike, and ten 
ropes may sustain a weight ten times greater 
than that which can be supported by one rope, 
and ten horses may pull a load ten times as 
heavy as can be drawn by one horse, but ten 
men working together will do far more than ten 
times what one man can do alone. The reason 
is that when men come together for the per- 
formance of a common work, they establish 
points of contact with one another which set 
free latent forces of the soul. Each man is no 
longer what he was, he is raised to a higher 

96 



THE STEENGTH OF COMRADESHIP 97 

power. By linking his strength into the strength 
of other men, a new strength is imparted to 
him, and he can do many times more than he 
can do when not energized by contact with 
others. 

War has a genius for massing men. An army 
is a multitude of men massed. The isolated 
individual avails little in war. In the day of 
battle the free lance counts for nothing. From 
the beginning until now war has always organ- 
ized men into units. It subjects these units to a 
common discipline, and trains them in the art of 
acting together. It furnishes the world with 
amazing revelations of the potencies which lie 
wrapped up in the principle of cooperation. It 
brings out of the experience of fellowship treas- 
ures new and old. In war, men by necessity 
are made comrades. In many cases they be- 
come friends. But friendship is not a necessary 
product of military life. Friendship is a close 
and intimate relationship of hearts which may 
not exist even though men may serve for years 
on the same battle-ship, or drill through many 
seasons in the same armoury or camp. But war 
compels men to be comrades. It does not per- 
mit them to remain simply companions. A 
companion goes with us only a little way, and 
his relationship to us is casual and transient. 
We are companions of those who take a walk 
with us, and of those with whom we fall in on a 
summer excursion. Men become comrades 
only when they are more or less permanently 
associated in a common pursuit. Those who 



98 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

work by our side in the forwarding of a great 
cause are our comrades. They are more than 
companions and less than friends. They are 
allies, associates whose lives are linked with 
ours for the attainment of a desired end. The 
best word in our language for the expression of 
this relationship is comradeship. All the men 
in army or navy are properly known as " com- 
rades in arms." 

War is peculiar in that it brings men together 
in vast numbers and from all social classes. In 
war, men meet who have never met before, and 
who would never have met had they lived on the 
earth a thousand years. They meet not from 
chance, but by the command of the Govern- 
ment. They not only meet, but their lives are 
organized into one bundle of life. In the army 
there is no place for a hermit. Isolation is an 
impossibility. Soldiers must eat and sleep with 
men who are at first strangers. They must 
keep step with men with whom in time of peace 
they would be unwilling to walk through a 
street. All kinds of men are brought together, 
the good and the bad, the disreputable and the 
honourable, the ignorant and the learned, the 
rich and the poor, the high and the low, the wise 
and the foolish, the noble and the mean. All 
these are caught in the governmental net and 
compelled to be comrades. 

In war the distinctions which ordinarily sepa- 
rate one man from another are ignored and fade 
out. Occupational distinctions no longer exist. 
Men from the factory and office, from the mill 



THE STRENGTH OP COMRADESHIP 99 

and the shop, from the school and the farm, all 
cat in the same mess-shack, and are obedient to 
the same rules. The distinctions between actors 
and writers, lawyers and grocers, artists and 
artisans, teachers and day labourers, are com- 
pletely lost sight of, and men whom civil life 
could never have made associates, now live to- 
gether as members of one big family. They 
have ceased to do things which separate them, 
and are doing only the things which unite them. 

Even the social distinctions grow misty and 
pale. Men no longer ask : " Is he rich ? " or " Is 
he poor? " for all carry the same kind of gun, 
wear the same style of clothes, and eat out of the 
same sort of dishes. No one asks: *' Has he a 
diploma? " or '' How many years did he go to 
school?" for in war the question is not how 
much a man knows of books, but how much can 
he do against the foe? In the days of peace a 
man may be content to know things, but at the 
battle front he must do things. Men who were 
not comrades in study become comrades in ac- 
tion. On the battle-field the crown goes not to 
the man who knows, but to the man who 
achieves. 

Religious distinctions are also partially or 
completely blotted out. The general never asks 
whether a soldier is a Methodist or Baptist. 
The colonel is indifferent whether his men are 
Catholics or Protestants. The captain does not 
concern himself about the religious convictions 
of his Jewish lieutenant. There is no time in 
war for the exploitation of distinctions which 



100 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

are often magnified in the leisurely days of 
peace. An army is made of fighting men, and 
the supreme question is not, after what manner 
do they pray? but are they capable of defeating 
the foe? They are not comrades in religion, 
but comrades in life. 

The blotting out of religious distinctions was 
one of the outstanding features of the war. All 
the Protestant denominations melted at once 
into one body, and Catholics and Protestants 
marched side by side. No one in Protestant 
England was concerned about the religion of the 
Belgians, and no Protestant of the United States 
hesitated to assist Catholic France. Even the 
Mohammedans forgot their antipathy to Chris- 
tians, and became their comrades in contending 
for the rights of mankind. The Buddhists and 
Shintoists of Japan did not draw back in the 
hour of peril because their religious convictions 
differed from those of the men in the West. 
Religious labels and tags were burned up in the 
furnace of war, and men, long separated, lived 
and worked together like brothers. They were 
comrades in arms. 

The results of this comradeship are among 
the great gains of the war. All through the 
war the magic working power of fellowship was 
daily experienced. Courage rose to unprece- 
dented heights, because men were inspired and 
glorified by their fellows. When men act to- 
gether they can achieve what is absolutely be- 
yond human strength when it is attempted by 
individual effort. When we work alone we 



THE STEENGTH OF COMRADESHIP 101 

often fall the victims of despondency. By work- 
ing together we feed one another's hearts. 
Many a soldier was amazed at his own courage, 
not realizing that he drank it in from the hearts 
of his comrades. The spirit of rejoicing which 
was so common even in days of midnight and 
eclipse was due to the touching of multitudes of 
hearts. When we think and feel and work to- 
gether it is impossible to despair. We belong 
to one another, and when the barriers are 
broken down and our hearts flow together, the 
life of God has free course in us. 

Many a soldier is aware that the chief bless- 
ing which came to him in the war is his enlarged 
knowledge of human nature, and his increased 
respect for his fellow-men. Before the war he 
was narrow, and did not realize how narrow he 
was. He had lived in his own contracted world, 
content to allow other men to live in theirs, and 
living thus aloof from them, false notions had 
grown up in his heart. Against many classes 
perhaps he was prejudiced. To many groups 
he entertained ungenerous feelings. His stand- 
ards were high, and he made no allowances. 
He drew the lines straight, and they could not 
be bent. He was stifif as well as narrow, and 
hard as well as stiflF. The war has given him a 
more genial estimate of his fellows. It has en- 
larged his conception of the breadth of mankind. 
He has seen that there is good in every man — 
even in the most unpromising. He has discov- 
ered that every man can do something even 
though there are many things he cannot do. 



102 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

He has found his sympathies growing wider. 
He is less of an aristocrat. Although living in 
a democracy, many Americans are not demo- 
cratic. Thousands of them are aristocratic in 
their temper, even autocratic in their ways. 
Citizens of America, they nevertheless have the 
disposition of a Czar. The war has been a 
teacher of democracy. It has compelled the 
snobbish to get down off their stilts and walk 
along dusty roads with common men. It has 
enabled them to see what human nature really 
is. They are surprised to find that it is so fine. 
They are astonished that there is so much good 
sense and so much noble feeling in the world. 
They had no idea that men upon whom they had 
from childhood looked down with mild con- 
tempt are capable of such splendid conduct. 
They did not expect to find such lovely and 
solid character in men of religious faiths so dif- 
ferent from their own. All this is gold, and it 
will remain. 

Comradeship is a means of grace. It should 
be listed among the sacraments appointed by 
the Almighty for our salvation. Touching el- 
bows is a source not only of power but of joy. 
Getting acquainted with one another is one of 
the first steps toward the millennium. The rea- 
son why labour and capital are so suspicious, 
afraid and bitter is because the sacrament of 
comradeship has been neglected. Men cannot 
hate one another when they know one another. 
To know one another they must enlist in a com- 
mon cause. So long as employers and em- 



THE STRENGTH OF COMRADESHIP 103 

ployecs live apart, the tragedy of the industrial 
world will go on. The man who is most needed 
at the present hour is the man who can proclaim 
in tones which will reach the hearts of Capital 
and Labour the gospel of the conquering 
strength of comradeship. War has taught us 
what cooperation can do when applied in the 
realm of international problems; it now remains 
for us to apply it in every one of the kingdoms 
of the world's life. 

Comradeship is possible at different levels, 
and at every level it has a blessing to bestow. 
The fellowship may be largely physical, but 
even at this low level it is not without trans- 
forming power. Just the physical companion- 
ship of men marching along dangerous roads in 
a dark night has in it immeasurable consola- 
tion. But companionship becomes increasingly 
satisfying in proportion to the extent to which 
men share in one another's mental life. Men 
who think the same things, and are interested in 
the same things, and take delight in the same 
things, are comrades in a higher and more re- 
warding way. All the men in a division were 
comrades, but in this great mass of comradeship 
there were groups of men who were comrades 
in a more distinctive sense. They were drawn 
together by intellectual or aesthetic appetites, 
and they came all the closer together because 
of the loneliness and desolation of war. Some 
came so close together they became friends. 

But comradeship reaches a still higher level 
when men come together in allegiance to a com- 



104 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

mon moral ideal, and are inspired by a com- 
mon religious hope. In every regiment there 
were souls with keen spiritual vision — hearts 
that were attuned to the music which the apos- 
tles knew. They used and understood the same 
language, and no matter how far apart they 
were in ability or culture, they were at one. 
There is a fellowship of the spirit, a comradeship 
of the soul, and the war gave many a man the 
opportunity to find out how precious and divine 
this is. 

Music is the language by which we express 
the reality of our comradeship. We sing to- 
gether, because we think and feel together. 
Music is the spontaneous language of the heart. 
Soldiers in Y. M. C. A. huts spent entire even- 
ings in singing rag-time songs. They did this 
because they were not only comrades in arms 
but also comrades in the human instincts and 
hungers. Music brought them still closer to- 
gether, and expressed what every one of them, 
more or less deeply, felt. We are patriots, and 
because we are patriots we cannot keep from 
singing. We are comrades in our devotion to 
our Republic, and therefore we become com- 
rades in song. When an audience sings: "My 
country, 'tis of thee," we join our voices. We 
naturally keep step with our comrades. Our 
national hymn is an expression of fellowship, 
and when we sing it we have a deepened sense 
of belonging together. Thousands of American 
boys had often sung the hymn at home, but 
when they sang it in France its words took on 



THE STEENGTH OF COMEADESHIP 106 

new meanings. They were now comrades in 
arms, and being comrades in arms, they could 
become in a new way comrades in song. One 
man can sing alone, but his song is pallid and 
thin. It is when thousands of men sing to- 
gether that we are surest that music is the gift 
of heaven. 

We Christians are comrades of Jesus, and 
therefore comrades of one another. We are 
the allies of Jesus, and are linked together for 
the purpose of forwarding His plans and ideals. 
All Christians belong together in a deep and 
mystic way, and it is because we are related 
that we find solemn joy in Christian song. At 
home in days of peace, men did not realize the 
strength and glory of this comradeship. Be- 
cause the way was smooth men felt capable of 
walking alone. But soldiers on battle-fields far 
from home, and sailors on battle-ships tossed by 
mad seas in bleak nights, came to know the 
healing strength of comradeship, and drank in 
abundant life from the old songs. The papers 
have again and again reported to us how sailors 
and soldiers became comrades in song. A chap- 
lain with a lonely heart was cheered by a sentry 
singing. The sentry on duty on dead man's 
curve kept humming to himself: " Rock of ages, 
cleft for me," and when asked why he was sing- 
ing, his reply was that singing the old hymns 
seemed like home. They brought back to him 
the Sunday evenings when he and his sisters 
sang these hymns around the piano, with their 
father and mother. IMen who manage ships on 



106 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

tempestuous nights need the sustaining power 
of song. In one of the fiercest of the nights 
two companies of American gunners on a trans- 
port, passing through a submarine zone, heart- 
ened one another by singing: "Jesus, Saviour, 
pilot me, over hfe's tempestuous sea." In this 
song they bound their souls closer to one an- 
other, and also closer to the soul of the Son of 
God. 

An American Bishop has told us that when a 
regiment of the Scottish guards which had been 
in service for three years, and which was about 
to start again for the front to engage in a battle 
which, as events proved, was to be for two- 
thirds of them the last, when asked what hymn 
they desired to sing, began at once: 

" O God, our help in ages past, 
Our hope for years to come. 
Our shelter from the stormy blast 
And our eternal home." 

Comrades in arms become still more courageous 
when they are also comrades in religious con- 
viction and hope. 

The lessons in naval and military comrade- 
ship which have been taught us by the war sug- 
gest those larger lessons of spiritual comrade- 
ship which humanity has still to learn. We are 
not intended to live and work alone. Isolation 
is weakness, decay and death. The man who 
holds aloof from his fellows is impotent. No 
man lives to himself, and no man dies to him- 



THE STRENGTH OF COMKADESHIP 107 

self. In life and also in death we belong to one 
another, because we first of all belong to God. 

The Founder of our religion is insistent on 
the necessity of our living and working together. 
He would not allow His disciples to go out one 
by one. He sent them forth two and two. 
Two men working together will accomplish 
many times more than they both can achieve if 
each works by himself. If still a third is added, 
and then a fourth, the outcome is immeasurably 
greater. What is true of our work among men 
is likewise true of our work with God. Two 
men praying together will open the heavens 
wider than both men can open them if each man 
prays by himself. Jesus promised a peculiar 
measure of divine power when men in prayer 
are agreed, and wherever even a few come to- 
gether to carry on His work, He is present in a 
way in which He cannot be present with a soul 
which abides alone. We were created to be 
comrades all the way to the shining gates and 
beyond. War has simply taken the doctrine of 
comradeship and unrolled it before our eyes that 
we might see how beautiful it is, and how indis- 
pensable also, to the saving of the world. 



IX 

THE OPEN ROAD TO CHRISTIAN UNITY 

THROUGH more than a generation 
there has been an increasing sensitive- 
ness to the misfortune of a divided 
Church, Enlarging groups of Christian men on 
both sides of the Atlantic have come to feel that 
the divisions of organized Christianity are the 
most serious of all our handicaps, and constitute 
a scandal which must at any cost be removed. 
The existence of competing groups of Christian 
workers within the same field gives rise to rival- 
ries and jealousies, and sometimes enmities 
which eat out the very fiber of the Christian 
spirit. Even when the rivalry does not stir up 
bitterness there is a loss in efficiency and driving 
power which causes all lovers of the Christian 
cause to mourn. The wastefulness of time and 
money and energy under our present system 
has forced itself more and more upon the atten- 
tion of all thoughtful observers. Nowhere has 
the folly of our schisms been forced upon the 
conscience with such power as upon the foreign 
field. When Christian leaders are brought face 
to face with the gigantic problems presented by 
a non-Christian continent, they feel most keenly 

io8 



THE OPEN EOAD TO CHRISTIAN UNITY 109 

the tragedy of a divided Church, and long with 
a great longing for harmonious and united ac- 
tion. The schism between the Greek and Ro- 
man Churches has worked disaster through 
many a dreary century. The age-long conflict 
between the Papacy and Anglicanism, and be- 
tween the Papacy and the Lutheran Churches, 
has been the fountain of immeasurable loss and 
distress. The constant and often bitter clash- 
ing of Anglican with Non-Conformist Churches 
has been one of the most shameful scandals of 
the last three hundred years. A Church torn 
asunder by unbrotherly feelings repels by its 
own folly the hearts it might otherwise win. 
The multiplication of denominations in the 
United States has excited the surprise, if not the 
derision, of a considerable part of the civiUzed 
world. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, 
that in the mature judgment of many, the prob- 
lem of church union has become the most crit- 
ical and urgent of all current problems, and that 
without a closer coordination of our Christian 
forces, the Christian conquest of modern civi- 
lization becomes an evident and mocking impos- 
sibility. 

If Christendom is to-day lamentably divided, 
it is not because earnest men in large numbers 
have not made honest efforts to heal these divi- 
sions. The chapter of Christian history which 
the workers for church union have written is as 
pathetic as it is noble. Great loving hearts have 
put forth their utmost efiforts to bridge the 
chasms and burn the barriers away. Christian 



110 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

leaders baptized into the spirit of conciliation, 
have again and again extended welcoming 
hands and have devised numberlesg and promis- 
ing schemes for the reunion of our separated 
communions. Commissions of learned and holy 
men have worked with fidelity and enthusiasm 
for the obliteration of ancient prejudices, and 
the union of hearts and hands. But almost all 
such efforts have up to the present been disap- 
pointing. Until the beginning of the war in 
1914, Roman Catholics and Lutherans and An- 
glicans seemed to be as far apart as ever. The 
Anglicans and Non-Conformists, with conspicu- 
ous and beautiful exceptions, looked at one an- 
other with hopeless eyes across an abyss which 
they were powerless to bridge. The denomina- 
tions in our own country, while advancing year 
by year in comity and courtesy, had as yet in- 
augurated no wide scheme for concerted action, 
and the success in bringing together even bodies 
of the same general church family had been halt- 
ing and partial. These attempts at union had 
for the most part begun with a consideration of 
creedal statement or of form of ecclesiastical 
procedure. ]\Ten felt that to come together it 
is necessary to find a common ground of agree- 
ment, and this agreement was sought in defini- 
tion of Christian belief, or in established form 
of administration and worship. The question 
always was — What must each side give up? 
What price must each side pay for this proposed 
union? In most cases the price seemed so great 
that the enterprise was ultimately abandoned. 



THE OPEN ROAD TO CHRISTIAN UNITY 111 

It is not easy for men in cold blood to sit down 
around a table and subscribe to the surrender of 
treasures which they and their brethren hold 
dear. Christians who have all their life enter- 
tained one view of clerical orders, will not 
lightly exchange that view for another in order 
to secure a wider concert of action. Men who 
love the phrases of a creed which has grown 
holy because spoken by the lips of so many gen- 
erations of Christian iDelievers, will not readily 
surrender that creed in the alleged interests of a 
fuller Christian fraternity. This then was what 
Christian leaders were doing at the beginning of 
lOli — they were discussing questions of faith 
and order. They were talking about the creeds 
and the sacraments, and especially about the 
historic Episcopate. They did not get on very 
fast, and many a zealous champion of church 
union had become disillusioned and despondent. 
Christendom seemed hopelessly divided, and in 
no direction could one see certain evidences of 
that unity for which so many hearts were pray- 
ing. 

And then in the twinkling of an eye, the war 
came. "Get together!" it shouted like an 
angel from the court of heaven. " Get to- 
gether, or you are lost," it spoke in tones of 
thunder, and everywhere men instantly obeyed. 
Hostile political groups came together. They 
did it in Russia, Germany, France, Belgium, 
Great Britain. They did it as if by magic. 
They did it with a swiftness which was incred- 
ible. Nothing like it had ever been witnessed 



112 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

in the history of the world. Political partisan- 
ship, one of the fiercest of all human flames, died 
down, and political opponents who had for 
years fought one another day and night with a 
fury that knew no batement, now worked to- 
gether like comrades and friends. Mr. Asquith 
and Mr. Bonar Law, riding together in the same 
carriage through the streets of London, was a 
picture of a psychical miracle that had been 
wrought throughout the world. Men had 
learned in a day how to come together. In a 
day bottomless chasms had been bridged and 
insurmountable barriers had been beaten down. 
Through every belligerent country there was 
a unity of feeling which caused men to marvel. 
The unity of feeling led to a unity of action, and 
the unity of action later on led to a unity of 
organization. But all this unity sprang from 
the impulse which had been imparted by the 
presence of a common task. An enormous 
weight fell upon the heart driving the heart in 
on itself, compelling the heart to live in its deep- 
est depths, and living thus, men found them- 
selves possessed of a common conscience, ready 
to act in a common cause. Social and individual 
interests dropped at once out of consideration. 
Personal prejudices and preferences were 
burned up like chaff in a fire. Inconsequential 
questions ceased to have an interest. The hour 
of judgment had come, and men thought only 
of the things which are supreme. Thinking of 
these, they came naturally and inevitably to- 
gether. The different political parties in Bel- 



THE OPEN EOAD TO CHEISTIAN UNITY 113 

gium did not feel they were false to their past 
or themselves, when they came together to form 
a cabinet for the saving of Belgium. The 
French political parties did not feel self-dis- 
honoured when they joined hands in defense of 
France. No Britisher felt that he was less loyal 
to the things which all Britishers hold dear, 
when he consented to work side by side with 
men of different political connections. Union 
politically came first through a common peril. 
It was danger that fused all hearts into a glow- 
ing mass. When hearts are one their action be- 
comes unified. It was because men felt alike 
that they were glad to work together, and 
when they found themselves working together, 
they began to devise new forms of machinery 
through which their united purpose could be 
most surely achieved. 

The transformation which took place in the 
political world took place also in the religious 
world. Here also men no longer thought of 
their differences. They had been overtaken by 
a common danger, they were now subjected to 
the pressure of a common task, and being thus 
pressed together, they lost interest in all things 
that are superficial and thought only of the 
things that are of supreme concern. Feeling 
together they did not hesitate to act together. 
Men and women of all religious faiths joined 
hands to carry on the work of the Red Cross. 
They did it at the front, they did it behind the 
lines. They did it abroad, they did it at home. 
Every Red Cross corps was an illustration of 



114 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

religious unity. Nobody cared whether a 
worker was a CathoHc or a Protestant, a Bap- 
tist or an Episcopahan. There are times when 
distinctions like that do not count. When hu- 
manity is torn and bleeding, one cannot stop to 
inquire concerning the religious creed of the 
persons who are offering to bind up the wounds. 
When boys are wounded and nigh unto death, 
they are not interested in the ecclesiastical af- 
filiations of the man who can tell them about 
God, Catholic boys got comfort from Protes- 
tant pastors, and Protestant boys were strength- 
ened by what Roman Catholic priests had to 
give. Protestant and Catholic chaplains worked 
side by side like brothers. They recognized 
often to their surprise how much alike they 
were. Transubstantiation and Papal infallibility 
did not keep them apart. The Protestant did 
not feel that he was false to his own religion 
when he was seen in public working with a 
Catholic priest, nor did a priest feel that he was 
becoming a Protestant when he assisted a Pres- 
byterian or a Baptist in doing his work. Even 
the crucifix and the rosary ceased to be counted 
dangerous. Protestant pastors were happy to 
secure a rosary for a boy who wanted one. 
They held the crucifix before the dying eyes of 
a boy who could be helped by it. It is only in 
time of peace that we make a great ado about 
the forms of worship. When God compels us 
to live at our highest and to think only of the 
things which are supreme, we sweep out of the 
way all the prejudices and bigotries, and become 



THE OPEN ROAD TO CHRISTIAN UNITY 116 

simple-hearted servants of Christ. Here and 
there throughout the war there was a priest 
who was a Cathohc first and a Christian second, 
but his behaviour when seen in the glare of the 
fierce light which beat upon him looked so 
hideous that it made an impression which will 
never fade out. When a Protestant clergyman 
allowed his own denominational peculiarities to 
come to the front, he became at once odious to 
every sensible man who came near him. Men 
who are fighting for the great things of life have 
no patience with pedants or bigots, they are at 
home only with men whose souls are magnani- 
mous and high. In the fiery furnace of war 
thousands of Catholics and thousands of Protes- 
tants showed themselves to be genuine and 
shining servants of God. Soldiers have seen 
things which they cannot forget, ugly things, 
exhibitions of bigotry which they will now hate 
more than ever, lovely things, exhibitions of 
breadth and charity which they will now love 
with a love never to be extinguished. 

The war then, from beginning to end, worked 
steadily in the direction of a fuller measure of 
Christian unity. Protestant Americans cannot 
weep over the sufferings of Catholic Belgians 
without thinking more kindly of all Catholics, 
and Belgian Catholics cannot receive the bene- 
factions of American Protestants without hav- 
ing a more friendly attitude to all Protestants 
everywhere. Boys of twenty different denomi- 
nations, fighting in the same regiment for the 
same great cause, can never consider the differ- 



116 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

ences of those twenty denominations as vitally 
significant. The man who attempts to kindle 
their zeal in any one body of Christians as the 
only body which merits the favour of Christ, is 
sure to speak to ears that will not hear. Many 
of the old prejudices and alienations have gone 
up in smoke in the war, and we are all closer 
together than we have ever been before. This 
does not mean that we have changed our creed, 
or substituted a new form of worship for the old. 
We are nearer together in feeling, in sympathy 
and in our attitude to the things which are really 
great. The war has trained us to think more 
about the things on which we are all agreed. 

It has also given us new hints of possibilities 
of church union. By church union has often 
been meant church uniformity. Men have sup- 
posed that if Churches ever came together they 
must of necessity become all alike, adopting the 
same forms of worship, and ordering their life 
after the same discipline. But the war has 
made clear that unity is attainable without uni- 
formity. We can have unity of spirit in the 
midst of a wide variety of forms. The unity of 
the British Empire as that unity was displayed 
in the progress of the war was one of the shining 
spiritual phenomena of the whole vast drama. 
Not only were Scotland and England and Wales 
really one, but Canada also was one with them, 
and so also was Australia, and likewise New 
Zealand, and still more wonderful so also were 
South Africa, and likewise Egypt, and India 
too. These different domains of the British 



THE OPEN EOAD TO CHRISTIAN UNITY 117 

Empire are far apart in tradition, temper, habit, 
and also in form of government, but when the 
great crisis came, they all acted as one. They 
did not act under political compulsion, they 
acted under the impulse of a common con- 
science. It was no central government which 
decreed they should fight. Canada took up 
arms of her own volition, and so did all the rest. 
The Parliament in London has no authority to 
compel New Zealand or Australia to do what 
it does not want to do. But when Germany 
lifted her sword against the world, then all the 
colonies and dependencies of the British Empire 
wanted to do one and the same thing. Unity 
of action is therefore possible without unity of 
organization. Unity of machinery is not essen- 
tial in the attainment of great ends. The one 
thing indispensable is unity of spirit. That 
unity of spirit Great Britain possessed. With- 
out it she would have been lost. 

But there was a larger unity more wonderful 
yet — the unity of the Allies. Here there was 
no unity at the start of any sort. Where will 
you find nations farther apart than Russia and 
England, of Serbia and Belgium, of France and 
Japan? Moreover, you cannot make them alike, 
either in history or language, in temper or cus- 
tom, in method or program, in precedent or 
ideal. To the end of the chapter the Russians 
will be Russians, France will be France, Italy 
will be Italy, Belgium will be Belgium, and Eng- 
land will be England. Uniformity is impossible. 
A common government is unthinkable. And 



118 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

yet through trying years the Allies were pro- 
gressively and unconquerably one. We our- 
selves at last went into the war, and we did not 
disturb the unity, we intensified it and enlarged 
it. We made the Allies still more united. We 
surrendered nothing that is an essential part of 
our American inheritance. We brought down 
none of our ideals, we gave up none of our 
liberties, but in the great war we were one with 
Great Britain and France and Belgium and 
Serbia and Italy and Japan. Our form of gov- 
ernment is different from that of all the others, 
our traditions are different and our ideals are 
different. But nevertheless we were united 
with all those who fought with us, and the unity 
was all the more impressive and effective be- 
cause there was no uniformity of government, 
and no common machinery to crush out the 
freedom of our action. There is such a thing 
as unity of spirit, and we kept that unity in the 
bonds of peace. We thought kindly of our 
allies, and we spoke generously and praisefully 
about them, and we helped them in every way 
we could. We differed from them in a thou- 
sand ways, we gave up nothing which is essen- 
tial to the integrity of our American life, and 
yet we were one, gloriously, unconquerably, 
triumphantly one. The supposed necessity of 
uniformity in order to secure a unity which is 
efficient is only a dream of the fancy and ought 
to be banished from the world's mind. All 
bodies of Christians can be genuinely and ef- 
fectively one, and at the same time no one of 



THE OPEN ROAD TO CHRISTIAN UNITY 119 

these bodies need give up anything which is 
essential for the development and expression of 
its richest Christian life. 

It is an interesting fact that John in his Gospel 
says nothing of the Lord's Supper. Instead of 
telling us about the Bread and the Wine, he tells 
us of the sacrament of the Basin and Towel. 
After brooding over the words and deeds of 
Jesus through more than a half century, it was 
the sacrament of the Basin and the Towel which 
assumed the central place in John's mind. That 
was the sacrament which remained vivid and 
divine after the lapse of fifty years. In the 
basin and the towel John saw the Eternal prin- 
ciple to which Christ summons mankind. It is 
the principle of service. The sacrament of the 
Basin and the Towel is the uniting sacrament. 
It is in this sacrament that all Christians will 
some day come together. It is a common task 
which will deliver us from our divisions and 
make us forever one. The war has pointed out 
the way. Christians have never been so close 
together since the days of the Reformation as 
they were when in the years of war they found 
themselves bathing the bleeding feet of a world 
that had lost its way. 



X 

THE POTENCY OF WORDS 

THE war has been called a war of muni- 
tions. So it was. Never before were 
munitions used in such vast quantities 
or with such terrific efifect. But it was also a 
war of words. There were as many words used 
as bullets, as many phrases as shells. The war 
could never have been won without chemical 
explosives, nor could it have been won with- 
out words. A poet wrote : 

" We have put the pen away 
And the sword is out to-day." 

But he did not know what he was saying. 

It has been demonstrated on a vast scale to 
our generation that words are forces, the 
mightiest known to man. They accomplish re- 
sults obtainable by no chemical combinations, 
they work miracles beyond the reach of any 
energies which the physicist controls. T. N. T. 
is mighty, but human speech is mightier still. 
The New Testament gives us a picture of a 
commander conquering the world by a sword 
which he carries in his mouth. The men who 
carried the sword in their mouth cooperated 

1 20 



THF. POTENCY OF WORDS 121 

with the men who carried the sword in their 
hand, and these two armies of warriors won the 
victory of November 11, 1918. 

There was much at the beginning of the war 
to undermine our confidence in the worth and 
efficacy of words. The advent of the war 
seemed to prove that words, however numerous 
and eloquent, can avail nothing in a world like 
this. Had not men been talking peace for an 
entire generation? Had there not been Hague 
Conferences, and Peace Conventions, and vol- 
umes without number extolling the beauty of 
peace? Had not orators in every country, in 
the presence of applauding audiences, said thrill- 
ing and persuasive things about fraternity and 
good will, and had not delegations of influential 
leaders gone from one country to another, 
setting forth in glowing periods the reasons 
why nations should learn war no more? The 
world had been deluged with peace talk, even 
more than forty days and forty nights, and 
many good people had by their words convinced 
themselves that war could be no more. And 
then, right in the midst of the speaking, like an 
intruder from hell, came the biggest and black- 
est of all the wars, saying: "You cry peace, 
peace, but there shall be no peace! " 

The war opened with a bold declaration on 
the part of Germany of the emptiness and feeble- 
ness of words. Idealists had loved to think of 
language as possessing binding power. It had 
become an adage that a man's word might be 
as good as his bond. There had grown up a 



122 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

belief that words written down on parchment 
declaring the promises of a nation are sacred, 
and that upon such words humanity can build 
without misgiving. But a high German official 
spoke of treaties as scraps of paper, and the 
whole world stood aghast at the discovery that 
words after all are flimsy and futile things. In 
that hour of darkness we felt that one of the 
eternal foundations had slipped out from under 
us, and earth's base seemed to be built on 
stubble. 

But in the depths of our bewilderment, we 
still clung tenaciously to our belief in the 
potency of words. All the nations testified at 
once to their reliance on words by presenting 
to the world documents narrating the events 
which led up to the war. No nation was willing 
to forego the privilege of presenting its case, 
and its case had to be set forth in words. The 
war opened with a battle of the books. One 
book confirmed or supplemented or contradicted 
another, and we all found ourselves working 
diligently with words. War after all is a 
venture of the reason, and every nation engaged 
in it had to furnish reasons why it had acted as 
it did. To do this was necessary to secure the 
moral support of the world. This moral sup- 
port is one of those " Imponderables " which 
Bismarck stood in awe of. But moral support 
could be won only by the use of words. The 
war called for the sword, and at the same in- 
stant it called for the pen. Pen and sword must 
work together. 



THE POTENCY OF WORDS 123 

The pen was indispensable not simply for con- 
quering the opinion of neutral nations, but also 
for fortifying each nation's own heart. Wars 
are fought by men, and in the twentieth cen- 
tury men will not fight with all their strength 
unless they know for what they are fighting. 
The aims of the war have to be set before them 
to secure their hearty obedience to governmental 
command. It was not always so. In the olden 
days when men like Tiglath-Pileser and Ramses 
II fought, or when men like Alexander or 
Genghis Khan commanded men to do their will, 
it was not necessary to explain the reasons for 
the campaign, or to feed the conscience or 
stimulate the will by arguments of tongue or 
pen. But those days have gone. The world 
is inhabited by free peoples, and men are no 
longer willing to be driven like dumb cattle to 
the field of carnage. To get them there and 
keep them there they must be fed not only with 
material food, but with food which the soul can 
live on. In proportion to a nation's rank in 
civilization, it is necessary for soldiers to be 
supplied constantly with words. It is by words 
that the morale of the army is maintained, and 
by words is a nation's heart kept from fainting. 
The swiftness with which all the belligerent 
nations proceeded to establish departments of 
public information was a revelation of the 
change which has come over the world. Attila 
needed no bureau of information, nor did even 
Napoleon. But in the twentieth century every 
government knew that to secure an enduring 



124 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

obedience it was necessary that sailors and sol- 
diers be instructed, and that the entire popula- 
tion should be kept informed as to the ends 
which were aimed at in the great struggle. 
This was best known to the governments of 
Great Britain and the United States, and in both 
these countries constant and eager attention 
was paid to the work of setting forth the moral 
aims of the war. Fully equipped bureaus of 
propaganda were established, staffs of writers 
and speakers were organized, the universities 
and the churches also were mobilized in the 
great work of increasing the volume of the na- 
tional conscience by means of words. Every 
man who could use either the tongue or the pen 
was laid hold of, and his services were of equal 
value with those of the military or naval com- 
mander. Public opinion is after all the sov- 
ereign of the world, and public opinion to be 
kept sound must be nourished on words that are 
wholesome. False words are more dangerous 
than bullets, poisoned words are more deadly 
than asphyxiating gases. An army can be 
paralyzed by a traitorous pamphlet, a whole 
nation can be overcome by a mixture of fal- 
lacious ideas. In time of war everything that is 
said becomes worthy of official attention. Gov- 
ernments watch with sleepless vigilance the 
things which come out of men's mouths, for it 
is the things which come out of the mouth that 
have in them the powers of life and death. 
Words are flakes of fire, and can start vast con- 
flagrations. Words have in them immeasurable 



THE POTENCY OF WOEDS 125 

magic, and the magic can kill or make alive. 
Governments henceforth must mobilize their 
masters of words no less efficiently than they 
mobilize the masters of howitzers and ships. 
Great Britain could not have conquered without 
her generals and admirals, nor could she have 
triumphed without men like Lord Northcliffe 
and Arnold Bennett. Directors of propaganda 
are as important as leaders of armies, and when 
the complete story of the war is written, there 
will be no more interesting chapter than the one 
in which is told what men achieved by the 
tongue and the pen. More than any other war 
ever waged since time began, this war was pre- 
eminently a war of words. It is absolutely im- 
possible in the world as it now is for any nation 
to win a war by physical weapons alone. Im- 
portant things are done in the laboratory of the 
chemist, but the highest and most subtle things 
are prepared in the laboratory of the mind of 
the man whose weapons are words. 

Even Germany won her greatest military suc- 
cesses not by her army but by her propaganda. 
Her army was the most perfect machine which 
human genius had yet brought forth, but her 
army was finally baffled in every field in which 
it put forth its power. Germany won only two 
smashing victories in the war, one over Russia, 
and one over Italy, and both of these victories 
were won not by bayonets or sabers, but by a 
dexterous use of words. With her howitzers 
and gases, Germany made no permanent in- 
roads on the strength of Russia. She killed 



126 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

many Russians, but she did not conquer Russia. 
It was not until she sent agents throughout the 
Russian army, suppHed with mischievous com- 
binations of words, that the power of Russia 
began to crumble. Germans by means of 
whispers accomplished what Germans with 
machine-guns could not achieve. Simply by the 
skillful manipulation of language, by twisting 
syllables into plausible arguments, by holding 
up the light of deceptive phrases, Germany 
caused the Russian Colossus to come crashing 
to the ground. It was one of the greatest vic- 
tories of the war, and it was won almost entirely 
by words. 

The only other German victory comparable 
with that over the Russians was the crushing 
defeat of the army of Cadorna when his troops 
were hurled back bleeding and broken to the 
gates of Venice. That was the most unex- 
pected and spectacular disaster of the war. To 
the outside world it seemed inexplicable. Every 
explanation which was offered was tossed aside 
by an indignant public as inadequate. When 
the facts were at last uncovered, the world saw 
again an amazing revelation of the omnipotence 
of words. It was not guns or explosives which 
blew the Italian hosts out of Austria, it was the 
words of sly and lying men. Germany by her 
insidious and deadly propaganda ate out the 
fiber of Italian loyalty, and left the Italians limp 
and helpless in the clutches of their foes. 

All through the war, Germany made most 
diligent use of the tongue and the pen. Her 



the' POTENCY OF WORDS 127 

bureau of propaganda worked day and night, 
and its labours extended to the ends of the 
earth. Unable to deceive long the people of 
other countries, she succeeded in deluding her 
own people almost to the end. In order to feed 
the fires in the hearts of her soldiers, she made 
use of every man in her University Faculties 
who could in any way make the German cause 
seem righteous. German soldiers like all other 
soldiers of our day cannot fight victoriously un- 
less they feel they are fighting for the right. 
To perpetuate the delusion that Germany had 
been attacked, and was fighting only in self- 
defense, Germany made use of every instru- 
ment within her control. She did not succeed 
even for an hour in fooling the outside world, 
nor did she succeed to the end in fooling her 
own people. Little by little the truth from the 
outside leaked in. One by one, prominent Ger- 
mans themselves admitted that Germany was 
in the wrong. Pamphlets and leaflets narrating 
the facts were dropped by the millions over the 
fields of Germany, and the result of this propa- 
ganda was the progressive undoing of the Ger- 
man soul. Thrice is he armed who has his 
quarrel just, and when soldiers begin to doubt 
the righteousness of their cause, the genius of 
the General Staf? is not sufificient to ward off the 
day of disaster. The keenest eyed of the Ger- 
mans early saw that against the words of their 
enemies it would not be possible for them to 
prevail. One of them frankly confessed in a 
communication to a leading German paper that 



128 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US' 

the department of propaganda conducted by the 
British government was weightier than the 
British fleet, and more dangerous than the 
British army. 

What do you think was the most thrilHng 
spectacle presented by the war? Different per- 
sons will give different answers. To one, there 
was nothing more wonderful than the action of 
the submarine. That a little devil of a boat 
should be able to emerge at will from the sea, 
look around about it through its uncanny eye, 
fix its aim upon a mighty ocean liner bearing 
thousands of passengers, and send its victim to 
the bottom by one dart from its half-hidden 
mouth — this was certainly something new un- 
der the sun, and the world will long talk about 
it. To another, there was nothing more amaz- 
ing than the Big Berthas. For a gun to throw 
a shell over twenty miles high, and cause it to 
strike the earth seventy-five miles away from 
the point where the gun stood, was supposed to 
lie beyond the range of the possible, and when 
the miraculous thing really happened, men stood 
awestruck and dumbfounded. For a moment it 
looked as though the entire art of war would be 
revolutionized, and that all previous plans and 
predictions would have to undergo revision. 
To still others the wonder of the war was the 
bomb-dropping aeroplane. The fight in the 
clouds was more thrilling than any fight on the 
earth and the sea. The spectacle of an aero- 
plane raining destruction from heaven upon 
helpless cities in the night was at once horrible 



THE POTENCY OF WORDS 129 

and sublime. When men began to smear the 
heavens with blood, it made one feel that a new 
age had dawned, and that we had just begun 
to learn the A B C's of man's capacity for 
destruction. 

But was there not a spectacle even more 
thrilling and wonderful than any one of these 
three? Look at yonder aeroplane in broad day- 
light dropping words! Is not that the climax 
of all the wonders of the war? For centuries 
men have fought with material missiles, but now 
at last they are learning to fight with words. 
They are putting the most wonderful creation 
of human genius to the work of firing spiritual 
ammunition. The sight brings a sense of relief 
to the heart. The bomb-dropping aeroplane 
fills the soul with horror. It makes no dis- 
crimination, and women at their domestic 
duties, and babies in their cradles are doomed 
alike to be torn to shreds by the bursting shell. 
It presents man in the character of a fiend. He 
seems to have lost the characteristics of a man 
and to have become a devil using wings. But 
a word-dropping aeroplane is a messenger of 
mercy. It does not lacerate human flesh, or 
demolish the strength and beauty of human 
homes. It makes war not upon the body but 
upon the mind. It makes use of munitions 
manufactured by the reason. It enables one 
to retain his belief that man is indeed a rational 
creature, and has not lost faith in the rational 
nature of his fellows. Behold, then, the aero- 
plane dropping words, as the prophetic incident 



130 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

of the war. Through that spectacle, as through 
an open window, one can gaze into the future, 
and see a world from which swords of steel have 
been banished, and all disputes are submitted to 
the arbitrament of reason. 

It is by words and not by bayonets that 
war at last will be permanently ended. After 
beating down Potsdam with bayonets it is now 
necessary to beat her down with words. Ger- 
many will remain a menace to the world until 
the reason of Germany has been conquered. 
It is her ideas which make her the most danger- 
ous of all the nations of the earth. Even with- 
out a fleet or army, she will be dangerous still 
so long as she retains the philosophy of Bern- 
hardi. Until her mind has been conquered, the 
world cannot be at peace. The mind is con- 
quered only by the reason, and the reason works 
its wonders solely by the use of words. Through 
the coming generation, there will run on a cam- 
paign in which the cohorts of reason will grapple 
with the hosts whose behaviour has been per- 
verted by a philosophy which is false. 

The founders of the American Republic made 
the President of the nation the supreme com- 
mander of both army and navy. They knew 
that he might not be either a general or an 
admiral, but nevertheless they gave him su- 
preme authority over all our military and naval 
forces. Since the Revolution we have had two 
great wars, and in both these wars our Presi- 
dent has been unpracticed in the science and 
art of warfare. President Lincoln carried a 



THE POTENCY OF WOEDS 131 

sword, but it was a sword in the mouth. He 
won battles by the things which he said. The 
generals on the battle-fields were indispensable, 
but without Lincoln they would have fought in 
vain. They fought with bullets while he fought 
with words, and it was the words and the bullets 
together which finally overcame the South. 
History has written two names above all the 
other names which the war of the Rebellion ren- 
dered lustrous, Lincoln and Grant, and the man 
whose name is written highest is the man who 
carried the sword in his mouth. 

President Wilson is not an expert in military 
or naval science. He is a school-teacher occu- 
pying for a season the Presidential chair. He 
has been supreme commander of our army and 
navy, and he has done all of his fighting by 
words. By his genius in the use of language 
he became the acknowledged spokesman for 
mankind. He towered above all the generals 
and admirals, carrying the sword in his mouth. 
His words had in them higher potencies than 
were possessed by the mightiest of the shells, 
his sentences carried farther than the longest 
ranged of the guns. By his luminous speech he 
did things which are beyond the power of chem- 
icals and metals. He smote the nations with 
the breath of his mouth. When the Muse of 
History completes her roll of the immortals of 
the greatest of all the wars, who knows but 
that at the top of the list will stand that con- 
summate master of words — Woodrow Wilson! 



XI 

THE RANGE OF THE POSSIBLE 

TO most men the range of the possible is 
narrow, to none of us is it as wide as 
it ought to be. We are prone to 
measure our expectations by our experience, 
and to Hmit our predictions to the things we 
can see. It is what our own eyes have seen, 
and our own ears have heard, and our own 
hands have handled, which gives us our ideas 
of what can be. The Hindu Prince who re- 
jected with scorn the story of the traveller who 
told him that in winter time the water in a 
river in his own country became so hard that he 
could walk across it, illustrates a tendency deep- 
rooted in human nature to take a skeptical atti- 
tude to whatever lies outside of the circle of 
one's own personal experience. Men often 
assert that something or other is contrary to 
Nature, when all they mean is that these things 
are contrary to their observation. They them- 
selves have not seen these particular things take 
place; but this does not prove that these things 
are contrary to Nature. Jesus, for instance, is 
said to have walked on the water. We never 
saw a man do such a thing, but this does not 

132 



THE RANGE OF THE POSSIBLE 133 

prove it is contrary to Nature. A man might 
have a force within him which would counter- 
act the force of gravity. When men say that a 
thing is contrary to Reason, they are trying to 
say that it contradicts their own judgment. 
Their judgment may be uneducated, and what 
they mistake for reason is nothing more than 
the crotchet or prejudice of an individual mind. 
Nearly everything of importance that has ever 
been accomplished in the world was declared 
in advance to be impossible by large groups of 
people who claimed to know. 

One of the services rendered by war is the 
enlargement which it gives to experience. It 
drives us from the beaten road, pushing us into 
fields into which we have never gone before, and 
where we learn things which had hitherto lain 
beyond the frontiers of our interest. War com- 
pels us to bear things which we were sure were 
unbearable, and to attempt things which our 
previous life would have led us to put down as 
undoable. 

The great war has reminded us that the words 
" possible " and " impossible " are only conven- 
tional terms, and that we ought to use them 
with diffidence and mental reservations. After 
this who will dare lightly declare what can 
happen and what can not? With the record of 
Germany before us who will venture to predict 
what a nation may be willing to do? With the 
achievements of the Allies fresh before our eyes, 
who will be audacious enough to set limits to 
what nations may accomplish? 



134 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

The men who came out of the war totally dis- 
credited were the prophets. The definition 
given by a wag — "A prophet is a man who pre- 
dicts what never comes to pass," seems almost 
correct. Prophets of divers types were proved 
to be short-sighted and mistaken. None of 
them erred more egregiously than the financial 
prophets, those long-headed and practical seers 
who have an enormous reputation for knowing 
just what human nature is and can do. But the 
financial prophets all failed, as did also the 
prophets of science; and the journalistic 
prophets have made for themselves a reputation 
which it will take a hundred years to live down. 
Some one has said that the war was a war in 
which the possible never happened, and every- 
thing impossible did. Certainly no one was 
able to predict one week what was going to 
happen the next week, and the wisest men stood 
side by side with the most foolish in utter igno- 
rance of what a day was going to bring forth. 
To turn the pages of the record of the last four 
years and read the interminable list of predic- 
tions which were never fulfilled, and the equally 
long list of things that happened which no one 
had been able to foresee, would be a melancholy 
and chastening occupation. We are, no doubt, 
wonderful creatures, but it is amazing how little 
we know either about ourselves cr others. 

The war reminded us every week that things 
can happen in this world which never happened 
before. The world has lived a long time, and 
many wonderful things have happened, but the 



THE RANGE OF THE POSSIBLE 135 

wonderful things have not been exhausted, and 
any number of them may take place before 
the next sun goes down. We have had abun- 
dant opportunities to measure human capacities 
and powers. We have a more or less definite 
idea of what a man is and can do. But the war 
has made it clear that there is even more in man 
than has been dreamed of in our philosophy, 
and that human nature has a range of energies 
running beyond the reach of our furthest ex- 
plorations. We do not know fully either our- 
self or our fellows. Humanity remains a 
fathomless mystery, and the powers wrapped up 
in human personality are only partially revealed. 
It is because of our ignorance that the future 
becomes unpredictable. We cannot make final 
calculations for- ourselves or for society because 
we do not know enough of the extent of our 
available resources. We possess no apparatus 
by which to compute the curve along which 
humanity is going to move. We know only 
that we are moving from mystery to mystery, 
from God and to God. 

A volume could be filled with illustrations of 
how the impossible turned into the possible in 
the years of the war. Among the most aston- 
ishing of the impossibilities which turned out 
to be possible, a high place must be given to the 
unions and cooperations which the war brought 
about. Few supposed that Britishers and 
Frenchmen could come so close together as they 
did. The men who knew best the history of 
the last five hundred years were the men who 



136 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

were the most skeptical as to the abiUty of 
France and Great Britain to unite. And yet 
before the war was over, not only were Brit- 
ishers and Frenchmen fighting together on the 
same fields, but all were under one commander, 
and that man a Frenchman ! The linking to- 
gether of Russia and Great Britain was one of 
the most amazing events in the history of the 
world. No statesman would have predicted it. 
Everything almost was against it. It was 
clearly impossible, and yet it came to pass. The 
political consolidations within the various na- 
tions were also unprecedented and manifestly 
impossible. Politicians are supposed to know 
human nature, and are given credit for being 
able to forecast the sequence of events, but no 
politician in Europe at the end of 1913 would 
have dared predict the combinations which had 
taken place before the end of 1014. The union 
of churches also ran far beyond the limits of the 
possible. Things done and permitted by An- 
glican bishops were not listed in any of the 
books of the soothsayers. Men rubbed their 
eyes with amazement at the things which were 
said and done. Men came together who had 
been irreconcilable foes. Men worked together 
harmoniously who had long fought each other 
with a rancour that grew with the years. When 
Poincare appointed Clemenceau Prime Min- 
ister, and when Clemenceau accepted the ap- 
pointment, men knew that the day of miracles 
is not over, and confessed that it is impossible 
for any man to say what is going to happen 



THE RANGE OF THE POSSIBLE 137 

next. In the realm of mechanical invention it 
was the impossible which came to pass every 
day. The aeroplane simply soared over the 
heads of the theorists, jauntily doing things 
which defied the rules laid down in the books. 
One aeroplane has already reached an altitude 
of 30,500 feet, which means that the tallest of 
earth's mountains has been left behind. 

The submarine was one of the most deadly 
and formidable of all the enemies which any 
nation was ever compelled to fight. It seemed 
at first impossible to curb or break its power. 
The mightiest of the world's navies seemed to 
lie at its mercy. The greatest of the world's 
empires seemed likely to be ultimately strangled 
by this devil of the sea. But the brain which 
can devise a U-boat can also create a boat which 
will destroy it. There is no instrument in- 
vented by human genius whose edge cannot be 
taken ofif by another instrument invented by the 
same unconquerable human mind. Before the 
war ended there were boats possessed of ears. 
They could hear the breathing of a submarine 
at the bottom of the sea. A submarine cannot 
remain still unless it rests on the bottom, and 
the bottom cannot be more than two hundred 
feet below the surface. But if a submarine is 
to move it must use its propeller, and if it uses 
its propeller, it sets in motion circles of vibra- 
tions, and these vibrations were caught up at 
once by boats which had been provided with 
magical ears. It was in this way that a des- 
troyer could follow a submarine hour after hour, 



138 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

as a hound follows a fox, and the end was the 

destruction of the fox of the sea. When bombs 
are needed for momentous work to be done 
below the surface of the sea, such bombs are 
immediately forthcoming, for nothing is im- 
possible to the genius of man. When the Allies 
learned the art of putting into a bomb five hun- 
dred pounds of an explosive which could be ex- 
ploded eighty feet below the surface of the sea, 
with a destructive radius of one hundred and 
fifty yards, the days of the submarine were 
numbered. The wise men of Germany, versed 
in science and mechanics, had proved in their 
books that to overcome the submarine was im- 
possible. For Great Britain to escape the net 
of submarine activity which had been skillfully 
thrown around her, was beyond human power, 
but men blunder egrcgiously who imagine they 
can set limits to the power of the mind. It is 
as hazardous to set limits to the power of the 
finite as it is to try to set limits to the power 
of God. God is in man and no one can know 
what it is possible for a son of God to accom- 
plish. 

In the realm of the unexpected no nation sur- 
passed the United States in working w^onders. 
We amazed the world, and we certainly sur- 
prised ourselves. The Germans had carefully 
calculated our resources. They knew the 
measure of our possessions as well as we knew 
it ourselves. They had catalogued every vessel 
in our fleet, they knew the strength of every 
unit in our army. They knew how long would 



THE EANGE OF THE POSSIBLE 139 

be required to raise an army of a size sufficient 
to become a factor in the war. They knew how 
long it would take to drill an army, and how 
much time would be necessary to transport it 
across the Atlantic. All these matters were 
worked out by the experts of the German Gen- 
eral Staff. No abler men in military and naval 
science were alive on the earth. They were 
masters of the whole technique of war. They 
could calculate with greater precision the drill- 
ing and movement of troops than any other set 
of men on the planet. They demonstrated on 
paper by figures that could not be questioned 
how long it would take America to get into the 
war. America, it was proved, could not pos- 
sibly get in before it was too late. And there- 
fore a policy was adopted which added America 
to the list of the Allies. The action of the Ger- 
man government is proof that in the judgment 
of the shrewdest, and most learned, and most 
capable of the military experts of the greatest 
of the military empires, it was impossible for the 
United States to become a determining factor 
in the war. Germany lost the war because she 
did not know the range of the American pos- 
sible. She was an adept in the calculation of 
mechanical forces, she did not understand the 
capacities of the human soul. She could meas- 
ure the carrying capacity of freight cars and 
ships, she could not measure the depth of the 
human heart. She could calculate the tenacity 
of steel and the death-dealing power of chem- 
icals, but she could not calculate the operation 



140 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

of those hidden forces which lie buried deep in 
the human spirit. The very thing which she 
called impossible came to pass. Realities which 
she brushed aside as negligible arose in the day 
of judgment to crush her. 

It is not surprising that Germany failed to 
read us truly, for we were unable to read our- 
selves. We did not know what it was possible 
for us to do. We have a polyglot population, 
and to say in advance what will come out of this 
is a hazardous undertaking. It is not easy to 
unify a nation made up of such various and 
clashing elements, and yet to the surprise and 
delight of us all, we attained a unity of enthusi- 
asm throughout our country, which was not at- 
tained in any other nation which drew the sword 
against the Central Powers. The clearly im- 
possible came to pass. We had a small and 
poorly equipped army to start with. Our peo- 
ple were averse to the policy of conscription. 
It was contrary to our traditions and it ran 
against the grain of our disposition. And yet 
conscription was adopted at the very start, with 
a unity of support which deserves to stand in 
the list of the miracles wrought by the war. 
The drilling of our army and the transport of it, 
and the achievements of it — all these ran 
clearly beyond the limits of the possible. Men 
who understood the situation best said such 
things could not be done, but the wise and 
prudent do not always know. Over two million 
men were mobilized, clothed, trained, trans- 
ported, put down within sight of the German 



THE EANGE OF THE POSSIBLE 141 

army with an efficiency and speed which dumb- 
founded the prophets. Never again will a man 
who cares for his reputation venture to declare 
oracularly how long it will take a nation to pre- 
pare for war. The width of the Atlantic has 
cut a large figure in bygone calculations, but in 
the calculations of the future there will be no 
more sea. We now know that the Atlantic is a 
brook, and that fighters as well as lovers can 
jump over it at their pleasure. 

How many incredible things have been hap- 
pening! Who would have supposed that we 
have so much money? Who would have 
dreamed that so much money could be raised 
by taxation, that men would contribute such 
enormous sums for the support of the govern- 
ment without indignant protest? We have left 
in the past a hundred important social duties un- 
done because we could not get the necessary 
funds. Taxes were already as high as the 
patient taxpayer would submit to. To increase 
the burden would stir up possibly an insurrec- 
tion. The admitted range of the possible in the 
realm of taxation was contracted. And so was 
it also in the domain of generosity. We felt we 
knew how much men would give, and we set 
down the stakes at points counted safe. To ask 
them to give too much would chill them and 
jeopardize the causes which we had at heart. 
Appeals for money must be reasonable, and the 
amounts asked for must never run beyond the 
limits which common sense can approve. But 
in the war all the sums that were asked for were 



142 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

unreasonable. They were unprecedented in 
size and in number. Considerations of prudence 
were thrown to the winds. We asked for the 
money which was needed and not for the money 
we felt men were willing to give. We asked for 
millions and tens of millions. The most enjoy- 
able and successful of the drives were those 
made for a hundred millions and over. When 
the sum for a drive was fixed at one hundred 
and seventy millions, the nation became jubilant, 
almost hilarious. Such sums had never before 
been thought of, because they lay outside of the 
range of the possible. But the war swept away 
our precedents and prtidence, and trained us to 
live in a world with wider horizons. As we 
went forward we discovered that we had not 
been using more than a tithe of our resources, 
and that we had held back from humanity many 
things which it was our privilege to give. The 
croaker, everywhere, fell into disrepute. The 
man who always said: "You can't do it " lost 
his voice. The defeatist was no longer popular. 
He was seen to be an anaemic and feeble man. 
The war set on fire the imagination, and in 
every field of activity plans were formulated on 
a larger scale. Enterprises which had been 
taboo as quixotic now came within the range of 
the practical, and goals which had always 
seemed Utopian were declared to be reachable 
by men now alive. This stretching of the scope 
of the possible is a psychical fact which the 
future will make fruitful use of. We have 
learned something which our successors are not 



I 



THE RANGE OF THE POSSIBLE 143 

likely to forget. It will be easier through a 
hundred years to attempt large things because 
of what the war has taught us concerning the 
range of the possible. 

There will be those no doubt who will re- 
vert to the attitude of the defeatist. We shall 
hear from time to time the doleful cry, *' You 
can't do it." But these doubters and falterers 
must count on meeting a great host of workers 
who have been baptized into a nobler spirit. 
Men are going to say in the words of IMirabcau, 
when they hear some timorous soul cry: " Im- 
possible! " "Never mention to me again that 
blockhead of a word ! " The war has taken the 
word " impossible " out of the vocabulary of 
earnest-hearted and clear-eyed men. We are 
not going to be over-concerned in the future 
about the possible. We are going to fix our 
minds on the things that ought to be — the things 
that must be if God's will is going to be done 
on this earth. That is the way we argued in 
war, and we shall not abandon that method in 
peace. We said: " Germany has got to be de- 
feated! " Having settled that, we were not in- 
terested in the critics who pointed out various 
things which it was impossible to do. " The 
submarine must be conquered!" There were 
all sorts of difficulties in the way, but what did 
they matter, when it was clear as the sun at 
noon that the submarine had to be conquered? 
" The American army must be drilled and trans- 
ported to France!" There were insurmount- 
able obstacles, but we saw none of them be- 



144 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

cause our eyes were fixed on the inevitable goal. 
Things become possible when we really desire 
them, and believe them to be essential to the 
carrying out of God's plans in the world. 
Jesus of Nazareth never used the word impos- 
sible. He was surrounded by defeatists, and He 
marvelled at their temper. He met every day 
men who could tell offhand what could not be 
done, and He brushed their reasonings aside as 
not worth His attention. When His disciples 
cried out " Impossible," He checked them with 
the reminder that when men are linked with 
God, all things become possible. He was al- 
ways working to enlarge the horizon, and to in- 
duce men to believe in the all-embracing plans 
of the Eternal. If you have faith. He said, noth- 
ing shall be impossible unto you. It is with 
this faith that we must enter on the task of 
building a better world. 



XII 
THE MIGHT OF THE SPIRIT 

DO you remember the words which stood 
at the top of the front page of the 
newspapers in the autumn of 1914? 
Those words had well-nigh disappeared at the 
end of four years, and another set had taken 
their place. There was a word which was 
hardly spoken or printed in the first year of the 
war, which gradually forged its way to the 
front, taking each succeeding year a more con- 
spicuous position, until in the autumn of 11)18 
it was exalted above every other word, the 
whole world conceding that, after all, war is not 
won by munitions and guns, by money or food, 
but by a mysterious something which is called 
" Morale." The emergence of this word from 
obscurity, and its steady ascent in public speech 
and thought, is one of the memorable phe- 
nomena of the great war. 

In the opening months we thought and spoke 
constantly of machinery. Our eyes were fixed 
on howitzers and shells, on aeroplanes and ships. 
It was the war machine which was the one thing 
essential, and to perfect the machine was the 
one absorbing ambition. Later on, we began 
to think more of the men. The problems of 
mobilizing them, and feeding them, and cloth- 

M5 



146 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

ing them were the subjects of continuous 
thought and discussion. Still later, we were in- 
terested supremely in the skill and efficiency of 
the men. The shipyards called for expert 
mechanics, and in all the gun factories and in 
munition plants, we eagerly followed the move- 
ments of the workers, noting the volume of 
their output, sometimes with disappointment 
and at other times with joy. 

But there came a time when our chief con- 
cern was not with the steel or copper, the shell 
or the gun, nor was it with the number or skill 
of the workers. Our whole mind was concen- 
trated on the disposition and the temper of the 
men, for we discovered that unless a man's heart 
is in his work, he cannot be relied on and will 
disappoint us in the end. Strikes became to us 
the most formidable of all perils. Moods of de- 
pression or insubordination were feared more 
than battalions of armed men. War is not an 
episode of a day or a week; it is not a struggle 
like that in which animals engage. It is a long 
drawn out and reasoned thing, and the longer it 
continues the heavier are the demands on the 
nations engaged in it. Each succeeding year 
it searches deeper and deeper into a nation's 
soul, summoning to action all its mental and 
spiritual capacities and powers. War is a bur- 
den to be carried along a road that is slippery 
and bloody, and it takes a firm nerve to reach 
the end of the journey. War is fought with 
physical weapons, but it is not these weapons 
which determine the outcome. Guns are indis- 



THE MIGHT OF THE SPIRIT 147 

pensable, but it is the men behind the guns from 
whom victory must finally come. Everything 
depends on the quality of the mind in the man 
behind the gun, and also in the man behind the 
man who uses the gun. It is not enough to 
fight. It is the spirit with which nations fight 
which determines the ultimate issue. In other 
words, a war is won by morale. 

And what is morale? It is a state of mind. 
No one word is sufficient to express its full con- 
tent. It is courage and endurance and hope. 
It is zeal and confidence and loyalty. It is de- 
termination and grit and esprit de corps. It is 
staying power, the temper which endures to the 
end. With morale all things become possible : 
without morale all other things count for noth- 
ing. 

The determining factor, then, in war is some- 
thing which is invisible and intangible. On its 
surface war appears to be largely a physical 
enterprise. Men seem to fight solely with their 
bodies, their hands. On closer inspection we 
discover that war is a spiritual venture, and 
that men fight with their souls. Everything in 
the long run depends on the soul. Out of the 
heart are the issues of life. 

In modern war it is not the morale of any 
group or class which is all-controlling, for war 
has now become a contest between peoples. 
The whole population is implicated, and if at 
any point the morale crumbles, the cause is lost. 
Soldiers and sailors can do little with the 
weapons provided them, unless the inner man is 



148 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

equipped and strong; but sailors and soldiers, 
however courageous, are impotent unless sup- 
ported by a people whose hearts are aflame. A 
discouraged and hopeless nation cannot send 
victorious legions to the battle-field. Morale is 
contagious. It is a living thing and spreads. 
It can be built up and it can be destroyed, and 
therefore in a protracted war the supreme con- 
cern of a belligerent nation is the task of main- 
taining its morale. 

Whatever undermines a nation's morale is of 
the nature of treason, and whatever builds up in 
soldier and sailor, in gun-maker and ship- 
builder, in statesman and farmer, a frame of 
mind which stands firm against every assault, is 
a weapon to be seized and made use of. Every 
government applied itself in season and out of 
season to feeding the minds of its sailors and 
soldiers. Men cannot live on rations alone. 
Being spiritual creatures, they must be fed 
daily on spiritual food. Without spiritual 
nourishment workers in shipyards and munition 
factories soon grow weary and faint, and with- 
out the daily strengthening of the spirit the 
whole nation will by and by lose heart. Morale 
is a frame of mind, and can be built up after 
certain patterns and in accordance with fixed 
laws. This accounts for the high place granted 
the psychologists in the war. They were as 
indispensable as the chemists. It is not enough 
to use men who understand the composition of 
chemicals, governments must use also the men 
who understand the structure and nature of 



THE MIGHT OF THE SPIEIT 149 

the mind. The continuous feeding of the eyes 
by paintings and posters and moving pictures, 
the unceasing feeding of the ears by martial 
music, and national anthems and patriotic 
speeches, was not a useless or incidental work. 
No work more essential than this was done by 
any other group of workers. To sustain the 
morale of the people is the crowning work of a 
government in time of war. 

All the forces which work against the main- 
tenance of a fighting morale are suppressed 
with a vigorous hand. The human spirit must 
not be chilled or discouraged. Nothing can be 
permitted to sap the courage of the army, or to 
depress the heart of the people. This is the 
justification for the stringent laws which every 
government enacts in time of war. Reckless 
talkers are compelled to cease from their talk- 
ing, and irresponsible writers are prohibited 
from writing, and idlers and busybodies and 
mischief-makers of many stripes are watched 
with a vigilance which is sleepless, for whatever 
dampens the spirit of the people outstrips in 
destructiveness the power of guns. The build- 
ers and guardians of the nation's morale stand 
side by side with the admirals and generals as 
the men who win the war. It is not l)y physical 
force nor by chemical reactions, but by the spirit 
in men's souls that despotisms are overthrown 
and righteousness is established. 

In the earlier years of the war Germany won 
repeated successes, not simply because of her 
splendid military machine, but because of her 



150 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

superb morale. Upon this morale she had ex- 
pended the tireless labour of forty years. Her 
great achievements had not been made at Kiel 
or Essen, but in her schools. She had given her 
entire people an education which fitted them to 
enter upon a war with glowing hearts. The 
Germans were prepared not only with howitzers 
and guns, but they had something infinitely 
more potent, supreme confidence in their ability 
to subdue the world. Their love for the Father- 
land burned like a furnace. Their confidence 
in their leaders was without a flaw. Soldiers 
followed their generals with certainty that they 
were marching on to victory. The war would 
be brief and the outcome would be glorious. 
IVIorale is based upon belief. It is what men 
think which makes them weak or mighty. The 
Germans were made mighty by their trust in 
the ability of their General Staff, and by their 
assurance that the day had arrived when by 
God's will the envious enemies of the Father- 
land should be overthrown. 

The morale of the Allies was also splendid, 
but it was not so perfect as that of the Ger- 
mans. The Allies were confident of the right- 
eousness of their cause, but they could not be 
equally confident of the adequacy of their mili- 
tary equipment. Physical preparedness had 
not been carried to so high a pitch by either 
France or Great Britain as by Germany, and 
there was not that confidence in the heart of the 
French and British soldier in his superior of- 
ficer which filled the soul of the German. The 



THE MIGHT OF THE SPIEIT 151 

military leaders of the Allies were largely un- 
tried men, and blunders, one after another, only 
weakened the contidence which had been none 
too strong at the start. 

But confidence in the righteousness of their 
cause kept the courage of the British and 
French from flagging, and as the years went on 
a growing confidence in their military machine 
gave the Allies augmented power. Little by 
little the morale of the French forced itself on 
the attention of the world. It was when North- 
ern France lay bleeding and crushed that the 
world was given a fresh revelation of the great- 
ness of the French soul. No people have been 
more continuously misunderstood by the out- 
side world than the French. This is due in part 
to the depravity and antics of small groups of 
unsavoury Frenchmen. But it is never wise to 
judge a whole nation by the sins of a few indi- 
viduals, and the world came to see that Paris 
is not France, nor are a few fops and harlots 
Paris. The French soldier under fire showed 
himself to be no weakling or coward. He was 
magnificent. The French women were not 
dolls, devotees of fashion. They had the 
strength and the courage of the heroines of 
ancient Rome. The French people were not a 
degenerate and hysterical race, but a nation in 
which there burned unextinguishable fires of 
nobility and devotion. It requires time for the 
morale of a nation to disclose itself. Year by 
year France rose higher and higher in public 
esteem. The voices of her critics were silenced. 



152 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

Many who had thrown stones at her now 
crowned her with praise. 

But in the fiber and tenacity of her morale 
France did not stand alone. England was her 
equal. British officers were in many instances 
lacking in experience and skill, but the British 
private soldier on every field proved himself a 
hero. The British armies suffered repeated dis- 
asters, but their misfortunes could not break 
down the British temper. Her losses were 
enormous, but she never thought of surrender. 
When the Fifth army was driven back in March, 
1918, and the whole world staggered under the 
shock of that cruel blow, the number of enlist- 
ments both in England and in Canada took an 
immediate leap upward. Defeat only stiffened 
the British will. It was her morale — the deep- 
rooted qualities of mind and heart — the moral 
temper fused in the fires of a great faith — which 
carried Great Britain through the tragedies of 
four discouraging years, and made it possible 
for her to arrive at the day of victory. 

When we study the experience of France and 
Great Britain, we see that morale is something 
more than emotion. All peoples are highly 
emotional in the first years of a war. But 
emotions are fluctuating, and cannot remain at 
flood tide. Young men plunge into a war with 
a zeal and heat which are beautiful and potent, 
but which are certain to die down under the 
fatigue of the exhausting years. Morale is 
something more than enthusiasm, it is deeper 
and stronger. It is finer and higher than 



THE MIGHT OF THE SPIRIT 153 

optimism. It is not a thing of the intellect, or 
of the emotions, it is a thing of the spirit. There 
is a spirit in man, and it is by this spirit that he 
conquers. 

Germany did not know of what spirit the 
Frenchman was. She underestimated him. 
She disparaged him. She counted him a weak- 
ling and a degenerate. Germany was ignorant 
of the French morale. Germany had carefully 
counted the French guns and the French sol- 
diers; she had not measured the dimensions of 
the French soul. It is the soul which is the de- 
termining factor both in peace and in war. 
Germany did not know the soul of Great Britain. 
She knew the size of the British army. She 
had catalogued every vessel in the British navy. 
She had never fathomed the depth of the British 
heart. She did not realize that the British heart 
is the same whether in England or in Canada or 
in Australia. Germany was blinded by her 
materialistic philosophy. She did not know 
how to measure spiritual values. She forgot 
the omnipotence of morale. She did not under- 
stand the neutral nations — including the United 
States. She had filled countless volumes with 
statistics gathered from all these countries, but 
she did not know their interior life. She was 
an expert in counting dollars and soldiers and 
guns and ships. She knew little of the spiritual 
forces which rule the world. Her leading men 
confessed that they did not care what neutral 
nations thought, and so Germany went reck- 
lessly on to defy the moral sentiment of the 



154 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

world. The spirit of mankind rose against her. 
The heart of humanity cried out in protest. 
She did not heed the cry, for she was deaf. 
She did not see the abyss in front of her, for 
she was bhnd. Having eyes, she saw not, and 
although she had ears she was unable to hear. 
Her false ideas had quenched the light that was 
in her, and how great was the darkness ! It was 
the morale of the human race which laid Ger- 
many low. No nation can defy the spirit of 
mankind and live. 

What did the United States do toward the 
winning of the war? Various answers have 
been given, and they differ widely from one 
another. Some say she did much, others say 
she did little. Some lay the emphasis on the 
food and the money, and others lay the em- 
phasis on what our soldiers did at St. Mihiel 
and in the Argonne forest. But whatever im- 
portance may be given to our food exportations 
and to our military achievements, there is no 
doubt that our supreme contribution was what 
we did for morale. By coming into the war we 
fed the heart of the Allies. Our grains were of 
great value, but the Allies were heart-weary, 
and we inspired them by saying: " We are com- 
ing to fight by your side." Before even one of 
our regiments reached France we had already 
done a wonderful work. We had toned up the 
hearts of millions. By our declaration of war 
against Germany we caused the French pulse 
to beat stronger. We sent more than two mil- 
lions of men across the Atlantic. Many thou- 



THE MIGHT OF THE SPIRIT 155 

sands of these never reached the fighting Hne. 
The men who got to the front fought bravely. 
They may not have done as much as our boast- 
ful newspapers asserted, but whatever they may 
have done or not done with their guns, there is 
no doubt they worked miracles by their pres- 
ence. The fact that they were there put new 
vigour into the whole AUied line, and subtracted 
strength daily from the German heart. The 
men far behind the trenches made a contribu- 
tion which should never be forgotten. They 
also helped to win the war. They never fired 
a shot, and yet they share in the everlasting 
glory. They strengthened the morale. A mil- 
lion men behind the lines, not yet engaged but 
ready at a word to move forward, achieve a 
work the size of which it is impossible to meas- 
ure. They increase the fighting strength of 
every man in the trenches. They hasten the 
day when the enemy will surrender. 

But there were a million Americans who did 
not get across the Atlantic. They were in the 
camps here. Many of them were eager to go. 
They could not go. Their hearts were filled 
with disappointment. They lamented the sacri- 
fice they had made apparently in vain. But 
even these men helped win the war. They, 
too, deserve to wear the laurel. Without them 
the war would not have ended when it did. 
They also were really in the fighting line. They 
did not go to France in ships, and yet they were 
tliere. Their souls were there, and being there 
in the spirit, they made themselves felt in every 



156 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

battle. When you make up the roll of the con- 
querors, do not leave these men out. Men in 
American camps fed the morale of men four 
thousand miles away. Every soldier in France 
was a more effective soldier because there was 
another American soldier getting ready to come. 

Let no soldier, then, feel disheartened be- 
cause he never reached the front. He did not 
reach it with his body, but he reached it with his 
soul. He did not fire a gun, but he helped crush 
the Kaiser. He did not kill a German, but he 
helped to take the spirit of confidence out of 
the German heart. 

Here, then, is a work in which all our soldiers 
and sailors had a part. They helped build up 
the morale before which Germany went down. 
We entered the war when other nations were 
fagged. We were fresh and unwearied, and 
our exuberant spirit caused men to forget how 
tired they were. We went to France with 
hearts which had not been torn by disasters, 
and with spirits which had not been chastened 
by cruel disappointments. Our bounce and en- 
thusiasm were contagious. We caused nations 
which had become downcast to lift up their 
heads. Some may minimize the value of what 
we did in the actual contribution of shells and 
guns, but no one can deny that we did a mighty 
work, a work which was absolutely indispen- 
sable and which we alone were able to perform. 
By our buoyancy and dash and spirit we in- 
creased the vitality and weight of the morale 
of the Allied armies. 



1 



XIII 
THE HANDICAP OF WEIGHTS 

ANEW Testament writer exhorts us to 
lay aside not only the sin which doth 
so easily beset us, but likewise every 
weig-ht. He thus calls attention to a distinction 
between sins and weights which all of us who 
are interested in perfecting ourselves in the art 
of living should hold diligently in mind. The 
New Testament writer pictures life under the 
metaphor of a foot-race. We are all in the 
arena running. Prizes have been offered to all 
who win, and as the course is long and difficult, 
it behooves every runner to get rid of every- 
thing which is likely to impede him in his move- 
ments. He must cast aside, of course, every 
sin, and he must also toss away things which 
in themselves are innocent, but which embarrass 
him in the act of running. 

As soon as we elevate our ideal, we imme- 
diately discriminate more clearly the moral 
values of the things we are doing. If our ideals 
are low, and our ambition to excel is feeble, we 
are content if we can keep away from the ac- 

"57 



158 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

tions which are confessedly wicked. Society 
has made out a list of the things which are bad, 
and in order to be respectable these things must 
be eschewed. There are many persons who 
feel they have a right to do anything which so- 
ciety has not stamped with its disapproval. If an 
act is not sinful, then why not do it? If a prac- 
tice is not wicked, why not engage in it? Why 
not do anything which is not clearly and no- 
toriously injurious? This is the viewpoint of 
all who are mediocre in moral intelligence. The 
world is full of morally commonplace people, 
people who have no desire to attain superior 
moral excellence, and who are happy if they 
are as good as their neighbours. 

The Christian religion summons men to lay 
aside not only the sins, but the weights. Every 
habit which obstructs the soul in doing the will 
of God must be surrendered. Every act which 
embarrasses a man or woman in the perform- 
ance of his largest service to mankind must be 
given up. Things in themselves good must be 
sacrificed in order that still better things may 
be gained; customs which under certain condi- 
tions are innocent become blameworthy when 
men are striving to reach a shining goal. The 
life of the college athlete before he goes into 
training is not condemned as wicked because 
he is careless as to his diet, and is irregular 
in his hours of going to bed. But as soon 
as he begins to compete for a prize, he is ex- 
pected to put himself under most rigorous dis- 
cipline. He lays aside everything, however en- 



THE HANDICAP OF WEIGHTS 159 

joyable and desirable, which seems likely to 
diminish his chances of winning the race. The 
world of athletics accepts as a cardinal doctrine 
this idea of laying aside every weight. Every 
garment which interferes with the free move- 
ment of the body is discarded. Raiment is made 
for man, and not man for raiment. Every habit 
which reduces the energy of the nerves is ruth- 
lessly cut off. Every article of diet which does 
not produce muscular force is peremptorily for- 
bidden. The program of the entire day is ar- 
ranged with the coming contest in view. Pro- 
fessional trainers of athletes are always on the 
lookout for weights. They hate them. They 
accept without question the dictum of the New 
Testament as to the necessity of laying aside 
every weight. The athlete who refuses to do 
this is fatally handicapped in the race. The 
body must submit to discipline and even cruci- 
fixion. Every ounce of superfluous flesh must 
be gotten rid of. It is serious business, this 
business of winning races, and every man who 
desires to be a successful athlete subscribes to 
the creed which commands the elimination of 
weights. Anything, no matter how pleasur- 
able or innocent, how respectable or popular, 
is an enemy to be conquered, if it stands be- 
tween the athlete and the coveted prize. 

The New Testament loves to picture the 
Christian life, now under the image of a foot- 
race, and now under the image of a war. The 
Apostle Paul was fond of thinking of himself 
as a soldier, and of the men who worked with 



160 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

him in the extension of Christianity as his com- 
rades in a great campaign. In Paul's last letter 
to the young man who was to carry on Paul's 
work after his death, the aged apostle wrote: 
" Suffer hardship with me as a good soldier of 
Christ Jesus. No soldier on service entangleth 
himself in the affairs of this life; that he may 
please him who enrolled him as a soldier." 
Here we have the very essence of the military 
life expressed in the phrase — " No soldier on 
service entangleth himself." He lays aside 
every weight. He puts himself in such condi- 
tion as that he shall be able to obey with swift- 
ness the orders of his Commander. War 
sounds solemn warnings against the handicap of 
weights. 

As soon as the United States entered the war, 
we found ourselves spontaneously beginning to 
lay aside some of our weights. It was not our 
sins that we first thought of, but our weights, 
the superfluous things we had been doing, and 
which now were only an encumbrance in the 
life we were called to live. Some of us became 
more economical in the use of our money. We 
had grown to be extravagant and had not real- 
ized how recklessly we were throwing money 
away. We began to cut down the number of 
our luxuries. When so many babies in Europe 
were hungry, we could no longer enjoy things 
which had formerly brought us pleasure. We 
began also to redeem the time. We fell nat- 
urally into doing the very things which the 
Apostle exhorts us to do. The days were in- 



1 



THE HAXDICAP OF WEIGHTS 161 

deed evil, and because they were evil, it was 
necessary for us to redeem the time. Hours 
which had formerly been given to idleness, or 
popular forms of selfish pleasure, were now de- 
voted to some form of labour which would assist 
the Allies to win the war. As soon as we got 
our eye on the prize we saw the necessity of lay- 
ing aside the weights. We were surprised to 
find how much money we had on hand to give 
to benevolence, and how much time we had on 
hand to contribute to the canteen, or the Red 
Cross, or to some variety of community Wel- 
fare Work. 

Nor was this laying aside of weights half so 
disagreeable as we had imagined it would be. It 
seemed not only a sensible thing to do, but we 
liked to do it. When we did it we found that 
our heart sang. It was fine to be in a great 
race, and to be running to win a prize. We 
did not groan when we tossed aside one weight 
after another, we felt exuberant as we dashed 
on toward the goal. The common notion that 
laying aside weights is painful, and that self- 
crucifixion is full of agony, is mistaken. It is 
only when we surrender that we are happy, and 
only when we die that we live. 

The immediate result of our laying aside of 
the weights was an increase in the volume of 
our bodily health. We had been eating too 
much meat, or too much sugar, or too much 
butter, and our body was impeded in doing the 
work it had to perform. By reducing the fuel 
which was thrown into the engine, the engine 



162 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

did far more effective service. There is an in- 
crease in the health of college men who go 
into athletics. The laying aside of weights 
causes the flesh to rejoice. There is an improve- 
ment in health in the young men who go into 
the army or navy. The explanation is that 
naval and military life compels men to lay aside 
numerous handicapping weights. The health 
of the population throughout the whole country 
was improved by the limited self-denial which 
was practiced during a part of the war. A dis- 
tinguished Scotchman said in an address de- 
livered in this city that the health of the Scot- 
tish people was never better than during the 
war, that the number of the insane in the asy- 
lums diminished, and that sickness among the 
masses was surprisingly reduced. What was 
true in Scotland was no doubt true in every bel- 
ligerent country where the pinch of necessity 
did not bring the daily ration below the amount 
necessary for the normal sustenance of the 
body. Men and women were on the whole 
sounder in body and saner in mind. They had 
something worth while to think about. They 
had something to live for, and to sacrifice for. 
They ceased to brood over their own petty dis- 
appointments and trials. Troubles which in 
peace had seemed colossal, now appeared in- 
significant. There was no time to whine over 
one's personal losses. Tribulations which had 
been mountains dwindled to mole-hills. The 
heart was set free from its selfishness and the 
mind was lifted out of morbid and somber 



THE HANDICAP OF WEIGHTS 163 

moods. Many of us in time of peace are 
weighted down with memories which are de- 
pressing. We carry along with us a crushing 
mass of impedimenta. We have not sufficient 
strength for the doing of our best work because 
our vitality is exhausted in the bearing of our 
useless load. There are a thousand things 
which ought to be gotten rid of, and left behind 
forever. They are weights — remembered bit- 
ter experiences — which impede us in all our 
journey. 

War did us an invaluable service when it in- 
duced us to let these weights go. As soon as 
we began to run toward Berlin, we could not 
afford to lug forward a lot of the rubbish we 
had been carrying. We simply forgot many a 
thing which had tormented us, and ceased to 
care for many a prize which had once excited 
our ambition. 

In this enterprise of laying aside weights, the 
Government came to our assistance. If we 
grew negligent in lightening our load, the Gov- 
ernment reminded us what it was best for us to 
do. Vigilant officials stood at the coal bin, and 
helped us to realize the value of coal. Others 
stood in the meat market and compelled us to 
think soberly, before we decided how many 
pounds would be sufficient. It was a new ex- 
perience to find the hand of Uncle Sam over 
the mouth of the sugar bowl, telling us just how 
many lumps could go into a cup of coffee. The 
Government stood by our side all through the 
war, saying — " Now lay aside every weight. 



164 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

We are running a great race, and humanity de- 
mands that we must win the prize." 

It seemed strange to find ourselves dividing 
occupations into two classes — essential and non- 
essential. Every occupation was summoned to 
appear at the Judgment, and show whether or 
not it was essential to the winning of the war. 
Every business was judged solely on its ability 
to contribute to the victory over Germany, and 
men were no longer permitted to engage in 
work which added nothing to our fighting 
strength. We found that we had been support- 
ing businesses which were only encumbrances, 
and all these now stood publicly branded by the 
Government's condemnation. This compelled 
every thoughtful man and woman to ask: 
" What am I doing? " " Of what value is my 
labour?" "What contribution have I been 
making to the forces which are making for 
righteousness throughout the earth?" All 
through the war the one question was : " Will 
this occupation help us win the war? " That 
is the question which should never be permitted 
to fall silent. Through the days of peace the 
question should keep sounding like a voice from 
heaven: " Is the thing I am doing helping the 
Son of God to save the world? " 

War has a rude fashion of stripping men. It 
strips them of their conceits, their prejudices, 
and their traditional opinions. We grow up to 
think that a man belongs to himself, has a right 
to live for himself, and that with this right there 
can be no legitimate interference. War sweeps 



THE HANDICAP OF WEIGHTS 165 

all that away. War repeats the words of the 
New Testament: '* No man lives to himself, and 
no man dies to himself." Every man belongs 
to society, to his country, to humanity, to God. 
War strips men of the things which have al- 
ways belonged to them. It takes away their 
collars, neckties, dress suits, patent leather 
shoes. It clothes them in raiment plain and 
simple, and allows them the use only of those 
things which are indispensable to the decent 
maintenance of existence. A boy in the Rain- 
bow Division, before sailing for France, took 
me into his tent and poured out at my feet all 
the things he was permitted to take with him. 
It was a pathetic sight. The things were so few. 
Everything of weight had been laid aside. I 
thought of the home in which that boy had 
been reared. I saw in my mind's eye the com- 
forts and luxuries which he had known since 
babyhood. There arose before me his entire 
past, surrounded at every step by all the fine 
things which money can buy. And now here 
he stood — ready to fight in the greatest of all 
the world's wars, and the richest of all the 
earth's governments was willing that he should 
carry with him only a few simple articles which 
might be held in the hands. Was the war un- 
important? No! Was the Government pe- 
nurious? No! Had the Government a low 
estimate of this young man's talents and worth? 
No. But the nations were running a race. 
They had all been summoned into a vast arena 
wet with blood, and in order that armies may 



166 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

run with success, it is necessary to lay aside 
every weight. It was because the American 
RepubHc was so eager to have this Ohio boy 
go over the top that it took from him every ob- 
ject which was Hkcly to hinder or hamper him 
in the race he was running for the glory of 
mankind. When men are to cut their way 
through Argonne forests, they cannot carry 
with them silk coverlets or brass beds. There 
are times when weights become curses, and to 
insist on bearing them is to jeopardize the wel- 
fare of the world. 

Jesus is the world's supreme Commander, 
and before He sent His disciples out to preach. 
He stripped them almost naked. They had a 
tremendous battle to fight, and every weight 
had to be left behind. " Get you no gold, nor 
silver, nor brass in your purses, no wallet for 
your journey, neither two coats, nor shoes, nor 
staf¥." They were not even to carry a book 
out of which to draw things with which to com- 
bat their foes. They were to rely on the Spirit 
within them, and out of their own hearts would 
proceed the words which would meet the situa- 
tion. Jesus reduced the life of His soldiers to 
its simplest terms. IMen who are to bring this 
world back to God cannot be cumbered by the 
paraphernalia which seems essential to men en- 
gaged in less arduous enterprises. Jesus Him- 
self went forth on His mission with empty hands. 
The woman of Samaria looked at Him in amaze- 
ment when He began to speak about giving her 
water, crying out : " You have nothing to draw 



THE HANDICAP OF WEIGHTS 167 

with and the well is deep." He dispensed with 
all luxuries, all comforts, even with things 
which to most men seem indispensable. He 
had a great race to run, and it was necessary 
that every weight should be laid aside. As 
there was nothing in His hands, so there was 
nothing on His mind which could embarrass 
Him in His labours. He had no regrets, no re- 
morses, no petty ambitions, no foolish imagin- 
ings. Those idle notions, and futile dreamings, 
and empty wishes which no one of us would be 
willing to characterize as wicked, but which fill 
so many of our waking hours and retard us in 
our upward way, never obstructed or hindered 
Him. He laid aside every weight as completely 
as He kept Himself spotless from every sin, and 
that is why the New Testament writer, quoted 
at the beginning of this sermon, exhorts us to 
keep our eyes on Jesus as we run with patience 
the race which is set before us. We often think 
of Jesus as the sinless one. It would help us 
also to think of Him often as the one who laid 
aside every weight. 

He has summoned us to the only war which 
is really great. It is a war which extends over 
all the continents, and runs continuously 
through all the centuries. In this war there is 
never a truce or armistice. It must be fought 
on until the foe is overwhelmingly defeated. 
In the last war we were fighting with flesh and 
blood. But in the greatest of earth's wars we 
are wrestling against the principalities, against 
the powers, against the world rulers of this dark- 



168 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

ness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in 
the heavenly places. Wherefore we are exhorted 
to take up the whole armour of God. This 
armour is without weight. Our soldiers in 
France were cumbered with their packs. The 
helmets were heavy, so also were the rifles and 
the blankets. It is not possible, in carnal war- 
fare, to cast aside every weight. But when we 
light in the great army in which the Son of God 
is the Commander, it is not necessary to carry 
any burdens. All loads can be dispensed with. 
The armour of the soldiers of Jesus is spiritual, 
and it is worn not outside but inside of the flesh. 
We can put on every piece of it and be freer in 
our actions than we were before we put it on. 

Many Christian soldiers are impeded in their 
warfare not so much by sins as by weights. 
They are not bad, only ineffective. They are 
not wicked, only inefficient. They are not dis- 
reputable, only useless. They cannot fight well 
because of the size of their load. They faint by 
the wayside because they are burdened by the 
weights they attempt to carry along. They are 
not criminals or culprits, but they are not good 
fighters. They cannot fight victoriously be- 
cause of the impedimenta which they are un- 
willing to cast aside. They give their time to 
things which are non-important, their thought 
to things which are inconsequential, their af- 
fections to things which are innocent but futile. 
They have kept themselves free from the most 
scarlet of the sins, but they have not learned 
how to cut loose the millstone of the weights. 



XIV 

THE UGLINESS OF SIN 

BEFORE the war the crimson of sin had 
well-nigh faded out. Many of us still re- 
tained the word sin in our vocabulary, 
but the fear of the thing had almost vanished 
from our heart. In the churches sin was still 
discussed and deprecated, but in the mind of the 
average man the conception of sin was pallid, 
and we were told on high authority that sensible 
men had ceased to trouble themselves about 
their sins. 

In many quarters it was agreed that there is 
no such thing as sin. What the old theologians 
meant by sin is only an animal inheritance which 
under the operation of the principle of cvulution 
will finally disappear. Sin is only a defect, a 
flaw, a blemish, something to be regretted but 
nothing to be alarmed at. It is a certain raw- 
ness, a kind of greenness, a sort of immaturity, 
a necessary stage in the development of every 
unfolding organism. It is virtue in the making. 
The theory of evolution in the hands of certain 
schools of interpreters brought great relief to 
the conscience. According to their teaching 

169 



170 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

there is a principle in men and things which 
works out inevitably the result which is best. 
The man who beats upon his breast and prays 
God for forgiveness distresses himself need- 
lessly, and has not freed himself from the meshes 
of a pernicious superstition. 

And so the doctrine of sin as expressed by 
the theologians was in many quarters spoken 
against. The idea of the atonement was rele- 
gated to the attic of cast off mental furniture, 
and men loved to think of themselves as mem- 
bers not of a fallen race but of a race which had 
from the beginning turned its face toward the 
heights, and which is certain through the opera- 
tion of resident forces to reach without risk its 
far-off and unknowable goal. That was the 
smug and smiling optimism in which many men 
were living in the early summer of 1914. Hu- 
man nature, by general consent, was conceded 
to be an amiable and lovely thing. The divine 
was incarnate in every man. Every man, 
whether he realized it or not, was really on the 
side of the angels. Progress w^as endless and 
inevitable. All that is necessary to reach the 
golden age is to allow men to follow the in- 
stincts of their own hearts. 

And then there came a crash. The whole 
earth trembled. The heavens were rolled to- 
gether as a scroll, and we found ourselves fac- 
ing not theories but facts. In the twinkling of 
an eye human nature stood unveiled, and we 
saw that in man good and evil are mingled. 
We got a fresh revelation of the hideousness 



THE UGLINESS OF SIN 171 

and might of evil. Our eyes were opened to 
the maHgnity and heinousness of sin. 

War bursts open all the doors of hell, and 
every one of the devils comes forth to plague 
and blast mankind. War casts a flash-light on 
the face of evil, and makes it possible for us to 
discover its vile and repulsive features. In war 
what is in the heart comes out, and we stand 
aghast in the presence of the deeds of which 
men are capable. Drunkenness, lust, adultery, 
profanity, lying, slander, hatred, uncleanness, 
vanity, lasciviousness, envy, jealousy, enmity, 
wrath, revelling, fury, greed, malice, cruelty, 
these are sins which push themselves at once to 
the front. There is no sin mentioned in the 
Bible which war does not exhibit. There is no 
form of evil which history records which war 
does not feed and cause to flourish. Human 
nature has indeed beautiful traits, but it has 
also traits which cause the angels to weep. 
The human heart has many virtues, but it also 
has many vices. The soul can climb heaven- 
ward, but it also can descend into the pit. War 
tears ofif the mask from the face of evil and lets 
us see what evil is. War leaves no doubt as to 
the accuracy of the declaration of the ancient 
writer that the heart is deceitful above all things 
and desperately wicked. 

The ugliness of sin was first revealed to us in 
the behaviour of Germany. When she broke 
her word to Belgium we stood aghast at her 
perfidy. Theoretically we had known that to 
break one's word is dishonourable, but the 



172 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

deed never looked so damnable as it did when 
Germany broke her word. The respect we had 
had for her immediately vanished. She was 
from that moment onward profane and unclean. 
We did not realize the heinousness of conceit 
until we listened to her egotistic ravings. We 
had considered vanity a harmless frailty, and 
the habit of bragging an innocent amusement, 
but when we listened to the " hurrah and halle- 
lujah " of the German savants we were nauseated 
and wanted to spew everything German out 
of our mouth. We had, many of us, grown 
callous of heart. We were not sensitive to the 
sufferings of the weak, and the injustices 
wreaked upon the defenseless, but when Ger- 
many trampled Belgium under her iron boots 
we saw that cruelty must be hated. Our souls 
recoiled from it as a loathsome thing. It was 
interesting to note how everybody extended the 
bounds of his vocabulary. Even those of us 
who had generally spoken of human nature with 
complimentary phrases, and who were quite 
sure that the devil had been maligned by the 
professional custodians of Christian doctrine, 
now found ourselves calling things inhuman and 
diabolical, infernal and demoniacal, fiendish and 
hellish. We had no longer any quarrel with 
the writers of the imprecatory psalms. We had 
no dif^culty in believing in hell. The vigorous 
and lurid language of the Bible was the only 
language which seemed to fit the case. The 
pale words of our ineffectual vocabulary wilted 
on our lips. We began to use the speech of 



THE UGLINESS OF SIN 173 

prophets and apostles. When we read in Bern- 
hardi, "A victorious Germany is the only Ger- 
many conceivable, and a victorious Germany 
must not hesitate to use its superior power to 
pulverize its enemies until their ability to rise 
again has been made impossible for all time," 
we felt sure we had found a man who was in 
league with hell, and when the Liisitauia went 
down, we found it no longer possible to doubt 
that we belong to a fallen race. 

But if Germany gave us our first insight into 
the malignity and awfulness of sin, it was not 
long before we saw that the very appetites and 
passions, the vices and delusions of Potsdam are 
also in us. At home we saw the havoc wrought 
by innumerable devils. Lust was here, and 
drunkenness, and greed, and falsehood, and in- 
justice, and inhumanity, and cruelty, and all the 
other servants of the monarch of Gehenna. 
These sins had always flourished here, but war 
seemed to lift them to a higher power. In the 
glare of the world battle, we saw as never be- 
fore the hidcousness of wrong-doing. Vice is 
indeed a monster of frightful mien, but we see 
it so often that we grow familiar with it, and 
it does not lacerate and repel the heart. War 
by turning vice into wider fields and allowing it 
to operate on a larger scale, shakes us out of 
our complacency and inspires in us a godly fear 
of the enemy of souls. 

Profiteering, for instance, has flourished in 
America as perhaps nowhere else. The profiteer 
is the man who is working for his own pocket 



174 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

all the time. He is the man who conducts his 
business without regard for the interests of 
society. He is concerned not about the men 
who work for him, but about the size of his 
profits. We had no name for this villain before 
the war broke out. We knew he lived in our 
midst, and there were many who did not like 
him, but he was a man of influence, and there 
were multitudes ready to do him homage. The 
war brought this man into the limelight. He 
continued to do in war what he had done in 
peace. He worked for his own pocket all the 
time. His eye was on the profits. He took 
advantage of every need of his fellow-men to in- 
crease his fortune. Other men were dying for 
their country, he went serenely on piling up the 
dollars. When we saw him do it we hated him. 
When in a world that called for sacrifice we 
saw him counting out his gold, we loathed him. 
We can never henceforth get rid of that loath- 
ing. We have found the profiteer out. Never 
again can he have our praise or even our re- 
spect. He is an enemy of his country. He is a 
dangerous man. He is a traitor to humanity. 
No man has a right, either in peace or war, to 
work for his own pocket all the time. In time 
of war we know that a man belongs to his coun- 
try, and that it is his duty to do what lies in his 
power to make his country strong and great. 
That same responsibility rests upon him in time 
of peace. Money-making is an abomination if 
the money is made at the expense of society. 
No man has a right to coin the lives of his work- 



THE UGLINESS OF SIN 175 

men into gold for his own selfish purposes. 
The war profiteer deserved all the contumely 
he received. The peace profiteer must receive 
no less. Greed is one of the ugliest of all the 
devils. Humanity is going to hate it more and 
more. It is Shakespeare's most devilish char- 
acter who says: "Put money in your purse," 
and the man who lives only to put money in his 
purse will be burned up in the wrath of a world 
which has learned how to hate him. 

The war has made it clear to us what cruelty 
is. It is cruel to starve women and children. 
It is cruel to compel men to work without 
adequate compensation. It is cruel to deprive 
men of the just fruits of their labour. It is cruel 
to crush out the happiness and liberty of vast 
classes of human beings. All this we saw done 
in Belgium. It was done before our eyes. It 
was done by the German government. And 
when we saw it our souls stood up aflame with 
indignation. We made a vow that with God's 
help that outrage should cease. We became 
invincible in battle because of the fierceness of 
our heat against the cruelties of Potsdam. It 
was her manner of waging war which kindled 
the heart of the world against her. We now 
know what cruelty is, and we have learned 
how to hate it. 

Cruelty in peace is no less heinous than 
cruelty in war. But peace has been filled with 
cruelty in every nation in Christendom. Women 
in large numbers have been overworked and 
underfed, and children have been sacrificed by 



176 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

the tens of thousands to the Moloch of greed. 
Men have in large numbers been robbed of the 
fruits of their labours, and whole classes have 
sunk down into paupers and slaves. When 
society compels any class of its workers to live 
in unsanitary houses, and to toil for a wage 
which does not allow fullness of life, and to 
labour at monotonous tasks seven days in the 
week, society is on the way to judgment, and 
no matter how long the doom may be post- 
poned, it is certain and will be terrible when it 
arrives. We all saw that it was inhuman that 
Belgian babies should die for the lack of milk. 
It is equally clear that American babies must 
not be allowed to die because their mothers 
cannot give them proper sustenance. We 
were stirred by the pictures of the pinched faces 
of the Belgian school children. Why should we 
not be stirred by the faces of the boys and girls 
in our American cities who go to school in the 
morning without enough to eat? 

If it is cruel to fail to feed men's bodies, it 
is equally cruel to fail to feed their minds. The 
war has revealed to us the number of our illiter- 
ates. The census had often been taken, but we 
were too busy to study the figures. The draft 
flaunted them in our face, and we were com- 
pelled to take note of them. What a condition 
of affairs in a great Republic — all these millions 
of men unable to write and to read! In this 
land of plenty, what a tragedy that so many 
minds should be permitted to starve. Every 
one of the nations has sinned against the Al- 



THE UGLINESS OF SIN 177 

mighty in its treatment of the weakest of its 
people. It was not till the British doctors ex- 
amined the bodies of the young men of Eng- 
land that English statesmen realized the 
enormity of their sin against the English race. 
It was not until the war disclosed the miserable 
character of the houses in which British la- 
bourers live that Parliament took up with 
vigour the great problem of housing the com- 
mon people. The lesson learned by England is 
also a lesson for us. The physical examinations 
in the United States revealed a condition ap- 
palling to any man capable of reading its 
significance. We have been outrageously reck- 
less of health and life. We have left undone 
the weightier matters of the law. We have 
neglected men, young men, young men of for- 
eign birth, young men who have been doing 
hard work for small pay, without which work 
our prosperity would have been impossible. 
Our inhumanity has been appalling. Our un- 
brotherliness cries to heaven. If we can see 
cruelty across the Atlantic, surely we can see 
it at our own doors. Everywhere and always 
cruelty is hideous. It arouses the indignation 
of God. Shall it not arouse us? 

It is this sin of neglect which the war has 
brought most forcibly to the world's attention. 
According to the Christian religion, it is the sins 
of omission which are certain to surprise us 
and overwhelm us on the day of judgment. 
Men arc generally thoughtful about what they 
do, they are not so thoughtful of the things they 



178 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

do not do. But it is the things we can do and 
do not do which will rise up to condemn us at 
the last great day. There were two men who 
emerged from this war hated above all others. 
The first was the profiteer, and the second was 
the slacker. The profiteer did something, but 
he did it for himself. By the general consent 
of all healthy-minded men he was a culprit and 
traitor. The man after him most hated was 
the slacker, the man who refused to do his bit. 
In war time we realize that every man is needed. 
We see that every man can make a contribution 
to the public weal. When we see this we be- 
come sensitive to the sins of omission. When 
every one is needed, the man who holds aloof is 
the enemy of all. When a man hides his talent 
in the earth when the nation is crying for the 
use of it, men feel the need of a punishment as 
fearful as Jesus portrayed in His solemnizing 
parable. The teaching of Jesus concerning 
sins of omission has always seemed to many ex- 
cessively severe. Sometimes it has been re- 
pudiated as irrational and atrocious. But in 
war time this teaching receives the sanction of 
our conscience. The only reason why we re- 
pudiate it in the days of peace is because we are 
not alive then to the criticalness of the contest, 
and fail to see the magnitude of the issues which 
are involved. When, however, we are grappling 
with a power like Germany, and realize that the 
destiny of the world depends upon the outcome, 
it is not difficult to see that the man who does 
nothing is a traitor to the world's cause. The 



THE UGLINESS OF Sm 179 

slackers are a species of cowards. They are 
willing to enjoy the blessings won by the sweat 
of their brothers. They may have specious 
theories to justify themselves in the life of aloof- 
ness, but the majority of their fellows will al- 
ways hold them in derision and contempt. In 
the day of battle no man can stand with folded 
arms. When the bugles of mankind sound the 
note of advance, woe to the man who stands 
still. When a great work is to be done, every 
man must shoulder his share of it. The man 
who refuses is a shirk. Shirking is one of the 
most despicable of all the sins. When the Gov- 
ernment calls men to fight for justice and liberty, 
the man who begins to make excuses is a slacker. 
It is a sound instinct deep rooted in the human 
heart which sets mankind irrevocably against 
the man who docs nothing. 

If the war has warnings for us against the sins 
of the profiteer, the savage, and the slacker, it 
has much also to say to us concerning the sins 
of the braggart. We have never been noted as 
a people remarkable for meekness. No one has 
ever praised us because as a people we have the 
humble and the contrite heart. There is a 
great deal of Brag in our disposition. It is our 
nature to strut. We indulge freely in big talk, 
and when we compare ourselves with our neigh- 
bours, we are often foolish and sometimes in- 
sulting. Visiting strangers are usually im- 
pressed by our braggadocio. Foreign writers 
have long exploited our bumptiousness as one 
of our outstanding national traits. The war has 



180 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

taught us the ugHness of megalomania. The 
Prussian type is hideous to us, and to Europeans 
the American type is hideous too. Some sins 
reveal their intrinsic loathsomeness only when 
seen at a distance. We are too close to our- 
selves to realize the dimensions of our conceit, 
but having seen what conceit is in Germany we 
should take heed to our steps. A bragging 
people can never win the world's esteem. A 
strutting nation can never bring the world to 
Christ. A Republic with a swollen head can 
never lead humanity into the golden age. 
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the 
earth. If we wish our Republic to influence 
the thought and shape the conduct of mankind, 
then we must walk humbly with God. Christ 
asked men to learn of Him, and He gave as the 
reason why they ought to learn of Him the fact 
that He was lowly of heart. He knew the in- 
nate vanity of the human soul. He under- 
stood how all history had been a tragedy be- 
cause of the pride and arrogance of men. The 
love of domination was in His eyes abominable. 
He told His disciples to imitate the humility of 
a little child. The war has revealed to us the 
hideousness of conceit. It has shown us the 
fate of a people which deluded itself with the 
idea that it was God's chosen race. Nations 
are not chosen to rant or to strut. They are 
not ordained to be cock of the walk, or to rob 
their neighbours. They are anointed to imitate 
the example of Jesus, and to count it their 
supreme joy to serve others. 



THE UGLINESS OF SIN 181 

Here then we find the war confirming Bibhcal 
teaching in regard to sin. It is a fact, as the 
Scripture says, that sin is a reproach to any 
people. Sin is repulsive, hideous, loathsome. 
The Bible says so. The war said. Amen ! Sin 
is a mighty and destructive force in the universe. 
To overcome it we must put on the whole 
armour of God. 



XV 

THE MISCHIEF-WORKING POWER OF 
ALCOHOL 

ONE of the outstanding phenomena of 
the opening months of the great war 
was the swiftness with which the great 
governments branded Alcohol as a deadly foe. 
The men on whose shoulders had been rolled 
the fearful burden of national defense all feared 
alcohol as the foremost and most insidious of 
their enemies. With a unanimity which was 
remarkable, they believed that the army which 
drank the least would be the army which would 
win. Statesmen like Mr. Lloyd George said 
amazing things about the power and deadliness 
of drink. Generals in proclamations to their 
soldiers used the language of teetotalers and 
prohibitionists. Scientists of international repu- 
tation expressed their convictions in terms which 
gave delight to the Woman's Christian Temper- 
ance Union, Kings and Princes and Lords and 
Ladies gave up their wine and brandy to set a 
good example to the soldiers. It seemed strange 
to hear the lofty and mighty ones saying things 
which humble folk had been saying amid jeers 
for more than a generation. It had often 

182 



THE POWER OF ALCOHOL 183 

seemed as though the wise and prudent cared 
nothing for temperance reform, and as though 
opposition to the Hquor traffic was confined in 
most countries to babes. But when war blew 
her bugle, and every nation felt summoned to 
do her best, there was an instinctive revelation 
of the attitude of the human heart to humanity's 
age-long foe — Alcohol. For generations the 
leading nations of Christendom had had a vulture 
feeding on their vitals. For long years the use 
of alcohol had kept fountains of misery flowing. 
In every country the liquor traffic had fattened 
on the ruin of the souls and homes of men. On 
both sides of the Atlantic, all the social and in- 
dustrial problems had been made more intricate 
and vexing by the hierarchy of Drink. The 
trail of the liquor serpent was over the world's 
life. Distillers and brewers counted their gains 
by the millions, and carried on a ceaseless 
propaganda sufficiently adroit to deceive even 
the elect. In the columns of influential news- 
papers there appeared from time to time 
editorials and contributions from men of distinc- 
tion, setting forth the failure of all restrictive 
liquor legislation, and calling attention to the 
hygienic values of whiskey and wine and beer. 
Enemies of the saloon were always lampooned 
and ridiculed, and it was made to appear that 
every effort to curb the frightful ravages of 
Drink was a direct blow at human liberty, and a 
surrender of the fundamental principles of our 
Republic. Never has the world been so success- 
fully bullied and cowed as by the men who have 



184 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

made fortunes in the manufacture and sale of 
intoxicating drinks. 

But when the world was suddenly summoned 
to put forth every ounce of her energy for the 
accomplishment of a stupendous task, there was 
a frank confession on the part of many who had 
hitherto kept silent that alcohol is a peril, and 
that men when they wish to do their best must 
let it alone. 

As soon as our own Government entered the 
war, immediate steps were taken to safeguard 
our sailors and soldiers from the peril of drink. 
Not only were the old moral agencies strength- 
ened, but new ones were created, for we said: 
What shall it profit America if she does help win 
the war if after the war we have a vast multitude 
of men who have been degraded and ruined by 
drink? The most drastic legislation was at once 
enacted, and it was made a crime for any one 
to sell or to give a soldier or sailor a glass of in- 
toxicating liquor. This was indeed radical. It 
was a bold assault on personal liberty. It was 
a severe curtailment of the right which many 
had felt to be an inalienable part of America's 
inheritance. But the Government did not hesi- 
tate to deprive our soldiers and sailors of their 
traditional privileges. A critical hour had ar- 
rived and the Government confessed that Amer- 
icans cannot be relied on when a great work is 
to be done unless they leave liquor alone. By 
its legislation our Republic clearly declared that 
alcoholic drinks are injurious and that it lies 
within the province of Government to withhold 



THE POWER OF ALCOHOL 185 

from men whatever obviously subtracts from 
their strength and incapacitates them for ren- 
dering to their country their largest service. 

This is a far-reaching confession. If the Gov- 
ernment can rightfully prohibit soldiers and 
sailors from drinking, then why has it not the 
right to prohibit every class of our population? 
Why should soldiers and sailors be discriminated 
against? If the right to drink alcohol is one of 
the rights of an American freeman, how dare 
our Government take from him this right? If 
she is justified in curtailing the privileges of the 
men who are fighting for her preservation, 
surely she has the right to curtail the privileges 
of the men who work in her factories and shops, 
in her cities and on the farms. And if alcohol 
is such a menace in time of war, it must be 
equally perilous in time of peace. If in war it 
reduces a man's efficiency, will it not do the same 
in peace? If in war it is the cause of demoral- 
ization which is intolerable, why should we sub- 
mit to the demoralization which it brings in 
peace? A nation which is wise will do her 
utmost to keep the human physique at its best. 
Government owes it to the people to safeguard 
in every way the physical, mental and industrial 
life of the population, and if alcohol works havoc 
with the lives and homes of men, then a Govern- 
ment is recreant to its trust which in time of 
peace allows the liquor traffic to work its will. 

It was discovered at the very start that no 
alcohol could be allowed anywhere near any of 
our cantonments and camps. Commanding of- 



186 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

fleers saw this, and said it publicly and often. 
Army discipline becomes impossible in the 
neighbourhood of saloons. Generals who had 
never been prohibitionists became believers in 
prohibition after a few months' experience. 

A drunken man is always a pitiable sight, no 
matter who he is or how he is dressed. But 
many of us can pass a drunken man by without 
feeling a trace of sorrow. He does not belong 
to us. We do not know him. He is a part of 
another stratum of society. With careless eye 
we pass by on the other side. But with a man 
in uniform it is different. His uniform declares 
that he is a servant of the United States. He is 
in service at a critical and momentous time. He 
is called to duty when his country has special 
need of him. She needs him at his best. When 
we see this man reeling through the street, or 
seated on a curbstone in a drunken stupor, or 
when we hear him howling like a savage, and 
see him picking quarrels with every passer-by, 
we are overwhelmed with a sense of mingled 
shame and indignation. This man belongs to 
us. He is related to us. He and we have com- 
mon responsibilities. He owes it to us to be a 
man. When he puts an enemy into his mouth 
to steal away his brains, we feel personally out- 
raged. He has wronged not only himself but 
us, and not us only but all the people of the 
land. No nation can win victories with drunken 
men. The flag can be held high only by men 
in complete possession of their powers. Many 
of us who never were shocked by the spectacle 



THE POWEE OF ALCOHOL 187 

of a drunken man have been pierced through 
the heart by the sight of a drunken sailor or 
soldier. He seemed almost to belong to our own 
family. He was our brother, and his lamen- 
table plight filled us with shame and sorrow. 

We went into the war to win, and we could 
not win with men who were intoxicated. We 
needed sober men and we needed a lot of them. 
We needed more of them than we could get our 
eyes on. We made an investigation. We 
found that thousands of men were employed in 
distilleries and breweries and saloons. The ag- 
gregate turned out to be 749,000. We had 
never taken time to think of these men before. 
They lay outside the field of our immediate in- 
terest. But now we were eager to make use 
of our entire man-strength, and the size of this 
army of Americans engaged in the liquor traffic 
appalled us. They were doing nothing to help 
win the war. On the other hand, they were do- 
ing much to hold us back from victory. The 
liquor traffic stood before us in a new light. It 
is a traffic which wastes the lives not only of 
the men whom it makes drunkards, but it wastes 
the lives of those who carry it on. They add 
nothing to the moral wealth of humanity. They 
make no contril)ution to the brain power or the 
heart life of the Republic. All this became clear 
to us in the war. Never again will it be possible 
for us with quiet heart to allow three-quarters 
of a million Americans to squander their lives in 
the liquor business. 

As the war proceeded we thought more and 



188 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

more of food. Europe was on the verge of 
starvation. The United States was called on 
for help. It became necessary for us to take 
stock of our resources. We had seldom done 
it before. We always knew that in Uncle 
Sam's house there was bread and to spare. But 
with a hungry world knocking at our door it 
became necessary to count the number of our 
loaves. We had to become economical. Even 
after various sacrifices, it was discovered that 
there was need of still greater ones. It was at 
this point that we scrutinized with wide open 
eyes the bushels of our grains and fruits ; and to 
our consternation we discovered what a wastage 
of food materials there is in drink. When the 
figures were set before us we were at first un- 
believing. It did not seem possible that so 
many thousands of tons of precious foodstuffs 
should be consumed every year to satisfy the in- 
satiable appetite for drink. 

Here then was a new indictment against the 
liquor traffic. We had known that it reduced 
the efficiency of soldiers and sailors. We had 
seen the havoc it wrought in shipyards and 
munition factories, in mills and in mines. We 
had been shamed and disgraced by the spectacle 
of drunken sailors and soldiers, but now we saw 
that the rumseller is the thief who takes away 
from hungry mouths the bread. We had heard 
occasionally of children going to bed hungry 
because their father spent all his earnings at 
the corner saloon. We had seen, now and then, 
the pallid faces of women who were under- 



THE rOWEE OF ALCOHOL 189 

nourished because their husbands did not fur- 
nish them enough to eat. But the tragedy took 
on a new meaning when Belgium stood at our 
door crying. A few women or a few groups of 
children had not been sufficient to tear our 
heart, but when a whole nation stood at our 
door beseeching us for bread, and we discovered 
that we could not give her as much as she 
needed because the brewers and distillers 
wanted it for themselves, the awful waste of the 
liquor traffic Hashed on us with a new hideous- 
ness, and we began to realize what an awful 
price a nation pays for drink. When Congress 
passed the law prohibiting the sale of distilled 
liquor after July 1, 1019, and also the manu- 
facture and sale of wine and beer after the same 
date until the end of demobilization, it was the 
most radical legislation which our Republic had 
known; but the people were heartily behind it. 
The war from the first day on had worked 
steadily for prohibition. The war was a school 
in which we have learned many lessons, and 
one of the most important of them all is the 
mischief-working power of alcohol. The world 
is increasingly insistent on efficiency, and we 
cannot have it with alcohol. The world is 
enthusiastic on the conservation of labour, and 
this is impossible so long as we have alcohol. 
The people of the United States are increas- 
ingly sick of the poverty and woe of our great 
cities. It has been demonstrated that a large 
proportion of this woe and poverty is due to 
alcohol. There is a growing civic conscience. 



190 WHAT THE \YAE HAS TAUGHT US 

We are not going to submit forever to the dis- 
grace of the incompetent and corrupt city gov- 
ernments of the past. Politics have been vile 
largely because of the saloon. The saloon is 
the rendezvous of the assassins of Democracy. 
It is the loafing place for those who regard 
neither God nor man. 

It was a great day when Americans got their 
eyes fairly focussed on the saloon. We now 
know what it is, and we know what is behind it. 
We know the power and the program of the 
distillers and brewers. We know the national- 
ity of many of them, and their iniquitous schem- 
ings have been brought to the light. Nothing 
that has happened within the last two years can 
surpass in importance the disclosure which has 
been made of the character and policy of the 
Liquor Hierarchy. It had done its work in the 
darkness, but the darkness has been banished. 
We now know who these rum magnates are, and 
how they do their work. 

It is because of this revelation of the temper 
and methods of the rum oligarchy that we now 
have national prohibition. Prohibition was com- 
ing, but probably it would not have come in our 
generation had it not been for the war. The 
war opened our eyes with a swiftness which 
would otherwise have been impossible. Most 
of us had been lukewarm on the subject of tem- 
perance reform. We did not know the extent 
and might of the liquor traffic, nor did we care. 
We did not know how many Germans were 
growing rich by the demoralization of America's 



THE POWEE OF ALCOHOL 191 

social and political life, nor did we care. We 
did not know that there were in the country 
300,000 saloons and liquor stores. We did not 
dream that there were 236 distilleries and 992 
breweries. War turned the flash-light on all 
these, and they stood out clear and vivid, never 
to be forgotten. We did not know the extent 
to which these rum kings had bribed and brow- 
beaten legislators. We did not know the ties 
which bind the press and the liquor traffic to- 
gether. It was fortunate that Congress was 
able to compel a famous newspaper proprietor 
in Washington City to confess that his paper 
had been financed by the brewers. Never 
again can that man write convincing editorials 
on the blessings and virtues of beer. The eyes 
of the nation are at last open. They were 
opened by the war. In order to go over the 
top in the great war it was necessary to put the 
liquor traffic in chains. The people will never 
forget that America is bound to go over the top 
in peace, and to do it she must abolish the 
saloon. 

That is what she has decided to do. The 
greatest event in the war, as future ages will see 
it, was the passage by the greatest of the world's 
republics of a Prohibition Amendment to its 
constitution. No such step was ever taken be- 
fore in the history of the world by a free people. 
It was not taken thoughtlessly, or in a moment 
of excitement. It was the deliberate action of 
a thoughtful people at last in possession of the 
facts. 



192 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

The greatness of the step has been hidden 
from many by the hquor propaganda still carried 
on in many of our papers. The old fallacies and 
lies are still being repeated, but they will avail 
nothing. The liquor traffic will not lie down 
and give up the ghost without a struggle. It 
will rave and rage for many a year. Like the 
demon spoken of in the New Testament, it will 
tear the victim before it comes out. But come 
out it will. The people have decreed it. The 
people will not go back. Dr. Arthur Dean 
Bevan, president of the American IMedical 
Association, spoke for the sane and informed 
section of the American people when he said: 
*' When drink has once been done away with it 
could be no more resurrected after the war than 
could slavery. There can be no doubt of the 
injurious effects of alcoholic drinks on both the 
physical and mental well-being of our popula- 
tion. We must organize the entire nation in 
the most efificient way possible, and this cannot 
be done without eliminating drink." 

All the arguments in defense of the liquor 
traffic are fallacious. When the hirelings of the 
brewers write in the papers that national pro- 
hibition violates the laws of nature, they refer 
to the nature of the German brewers. When 
they say that it destroys the liberty of people in 
their homes, they forget that it is liberty which 
has been destroyed in many homes lo these 
many years. We want more liberty in America, 
and that is why the liquor traffic must go. So 
long as it remains thousands of our people must 



THE POWER OF ALCOHOL 193 

be slaves. We want all our women to be free. 
But how can a woman be free who has a drunken 
husband? We want our children to be free, but 
how can they be free to play in safety with 
saloons on every corner through whose open 
doors there may reel at any moment a man 
demonized by rum? We want release from 
some of the burdens which the saloon has im- 
posed upon us. We want to get rid of some of 
the chains which the brewers have forged 
around our wrists. We want to get out of the 
prison into which the lords of Drink have thrust 
us. No nation can be free which is lorded over 
by an oligarchy of distillers and brewers. The 
world is enjoying a new birth of freedom. We 
are going to set ourselves free from the saloon. 
When it is said that all prohibitory legisla- 
tion only makes violators and evaders of the 
law, the reply is that this is a confession that 
the men who now deal in liquor kave no regard 
for the expressed will of the people. Wc knew 
that before. It is advantageous to have it 
frankly confessed by the culprits themselves. 
The Rum Hierarchy do not know what law is. 
Its conscience is thoroughly Prussian, all legis- 
lative enactments are only scraps of paper. Let 
no one imagine that when under prohibition 
liquor dealers become violators and evaders of 
the law they are doing any new thing. From 
the beginning they have trampled every law un- 
der their feet, in every community in which 
sentiment was not strong enough to make law- 
lessness on their part dangerous. These men 



194 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

who talk about the futility of any attempt to 
enforce the expressed will of the people are not 
true Americans. They are traitors to the prin- 
ciples of democracy, and the country would be 
better ofT without them. Nor is it true, as is 
often said, that the liquor question is merely a 
local matter. It is a national matter. We all 
saw its national character during the war. We 
shall not lose sight of it now that peace has 
come. To win the war it was necessary for the 
entire nation to put its foot on drink; it must 
keep its foot there forever. 



XVI 
THE CERTAINTY OF HARVEST 

IT is a memorable saying of St. Paul: " Be 
not deceived : God is not mocked : for what- 
soever a man sovveth, that shall he also 
reap." The law of retribution is written in 
vivid characters across the pages of the Bible. 
From first to last the Scriptures assert that God 
is mercifiul and gracious, keeping mercy for 
thousands, but that He will by no means clear 
the guilty, and will visit the iniquity of the 
fathers upon the children and upon the chil- 
dren's children unto the third and to the fourth 
generation. Prophets and apostles all saw with 
great distinctness that the soul that sins shall 
die, and that only fools make a mock at sin. 

The war has taught us that what the Bible 
says about the punishment of sin is true. It has 
confirmed the idea of Paul that we are under the 
law of seed growth, and. that the character of 
the harvest depends entirely on the character of 
the seed we sow. We have seen in the years 
of war appalling illustrations of what Christ 
meant by Gehenna, and not soon will it be easy 
for thoughtful men to make light of the Chris- 
tian doctrine of retribution. 

195 



196 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

Science agrees with Christianity in its empha- 
sis on the inexorableness of law. The concep- 
tion of a universe governed according to law is 
the dominant scientific idea of our age. No 
realm in the physical universe is lawless. Of 
this science is certain ; and the Christian believer 
is equally certain that the spiritual universe is 
also governed according to law. Persons as 
well as atoms are in the grip of laws they cannot 
escape. Groups of men as well as masses of 
matter are bound by bonds which cannot be 
broken. There are principles built into the 
physical universe which cannot be defied with- 
out confusion; there are principles embedded in 
the structure of human society which must be 
obeyed if mankind is to escape disaster. Science 
has made it impossible for us to believe that any 
event is without a cause. She will not allow us 
to think of any phenomenon which is not related 
to something which went before it. When 
therefore a great war lays waste the earth, we 
cannot think of it as coming either by accident 
or by chance. Both of these have been ban- 
ished from the minds of men who are abreast 
with the times. When the earth is darkened 
at noon by an eclipse we know how to explain 
it. When a huge shadow falls across the heart 
of mankind we are sure there must be an ex- 
planation. When the earth is deluged with a 
flood we find out the reasons for it; when the 
earth is swept by a deluge of blood and tears 
we know this also must be according to law. 
There was a time when the Black Plague swept 



THE CERTAINTY OF HAETEST 197 

millions of Europeans into the grave. Science 
had no rest until she had found the cause of the 
plague. War has recently swept eight millions 
of men into the grave, and the reason for it 
must be sought for, and when found pondered. 
We have during four years looked upon a won- 
derful spectacle — a whole continent bristling 
with armed men. If we should see an entire 
continent suddenly bring forth a vast harvest 
of briars and thorns, we should know at once 
that it was because of what men had put into 
the soil. When we see a continent bringing 
forth a harvest of twenty-five million armed 
men, covering the fields and the mountainsides, 
we are certain that some sower has been sowing 
seed, and that the howitzers and bayonets are 
of the nature of a harvest. 

Here then is a fact to begin with. This war 
did not happen by chance. It was not a bad 
streak of luck. It was not a fortuitous con- 
course of steel atoms. It was not the hap- 
hazard stumbling of a gawky world into a ditch. 
The war came according to law. The seed had 
been planted and the war came up. 

The war was not an accident. The nations 
were not climbing the slippery slope of the 
Matterhorn of civilization, the foot of one of 
them accidentally slipping, and dragging with 
it all the others to perdition. This war was not 
a mere slip of the tongue or of the foot. The 
war was the effect of a cause. Certain seed had 
been planted and cultivated, and the harvest 
was the war. 



198 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

The war was not due to fate. There was a 
superstition current in the ancient world to the 
effect that all things are in the grip of a law 
which compels men to be what they are and 
events to happen as they do. According to this 
superstition nobody is responsible for what he 
does, and nobody can be justly censured for 
what comes to pass. It is a superstition which 
still lingers in circles which are belated. It has 
been taught in high places that this war was an 
irrepressible conflict, a tragedy which human 
wisdom and foresight could not have pre- 
vented. It is the foppery of certain schools of 
shallow thinkers that when we are sick in for- 
tune, our disasters are due to the sun, the moon 
and the stars, " as if we were villains by neces- 
sity; fools by heavenly compulsion; and all that 
we are evil in by a divine thrusting on." Most 
of us have outgrown this primitive form of 
folly. The war was not due to fate. It was the 
creation of men endowed with moral freedom. 
Men by their deliberate choice sowed the fields 
of Europe with certain seeds, and there came up 
at last this tragedy. 

Nor was the war the cunningly devised in- 
strument of the Almighty which He thrust into 
the hand of mankind at the beginning of August, 
1914. The Father of Jesus Christ does not 
thrust the sword into the hands of nations 
ambitious for a larger place in the sun. It is 
not His desire to build up in men gentle and 
loving dispositions by exercising them in the 
art of human butchery. Jabbing bayonets into 



THE CERTAmXY OF HAEVEST 199 

the abdomens of boys, putting out their eyes, 
shattering their jaws, tearing off their legs and 
arms, crushing their skulls, strangling them with 
poisonous gases, scalding them with liquid fire, 
drowning them in the ocean, blowing to tatters 
the bodies of women and children — these things 
are not planned in heaven. They are not a part 
of the curriculum presented by the Infinite 
Mercy for the education of mankind. They are 
the harvest of a certain type of planting. They 
are the fruit which comes in the autumn as the 
result of work done in the spring. 

The only rational explanation of the war is 
that it was retribution. It was the penalty of 
violated law. Nations had long trampled on 
the principles of the Almighty, and the result 
was that the world was beaten with many 
stripes. Nations had defied the revealed will 
of the Eternal, and for this they were cast into 
hell. Some of us had grown facetious over the 
language of the New Testament, concerning the 
weeping and the gnashing of teeth. We put 
down all that was said concerning the outer 
darkness and the fire as poetic and figurative, 
pictures of the oriental fancy with no grim reali- 
ties corresponding to them. The war has 
taught us that the New Testament figures of 
speech stand for something. God is not 
mocked. He refuses to clear the guilty. It is 
evident that whatever a nation sows, that it 
also reaps. It has been demonstrated before 
our eyes that one kind of sowing leads to cor- 
ruption, and that another kind leads to life. 



200 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

We can confirm the testimony of an ancient ob- 
server, and say with him that " the wicked shall 
be turned into hell, and all the nations that for- 
get God." We can no longer doubt that there 
is retribution for nations as well as individuals, 
for we have seen many nations slide into 
Gehenna, and the smoke of their torment has 
gone up before our eyes day and night, Dante 
never painted pictures so horrible as the great 
war has painted on the retina of the world's eye 
forever. 

"Whence come wars?" asks a New Testa- 
ment writer, and he answers it in a way which 
can never be improved. " Ye lust and have 
not: ye kill, and are jealous and cannot obtain." 
In other words, men fight because they are 
greedy. Other men have what they themselves 
desire to possess, and they attempt to take it 
from them by force. Steam and electricity 
opened up the whole world for commercial ex- 
ploitation. The steamship and the railroad laid 
Africa and Asia at the feet of the leading na- 
tions of Europe. These nations were seized 
with a great desire to cut up these continents 
and use them for their own ends. Great Britain 
and France and Holland took possession of 
large districts in eastern Asia, and later on Ger- 
many came in demanding her share. France 
and Great Britain, Belgium and Italy took 
possession of large districts in Africa. Ger- 
many came in demanding her share. Africa 
and Asia were luscious melons. The time had 
come to cut them, and every great nation 



THE CEETAINTY OF HAEVEST 201 

wanted a huge slice. When the sHces were dis- 
tributed, Germany was not satisfied. She had 
succeeded in grasping only a few of the scraps. 
All the nations were rivals, eager for markets, 
hungry for concessions. They were jealous of 
one another. They did not trust one another. 
At first simply competitors, they degenerated 
into foes. To safeguard their interests they felt 
it necessary to support huge armies and navies. 
Every nation was armed to the teeth. The 
policy of armed peace became the policy of all. 
But this led to a rivalry in armaments. Each 
nation tried to surpass its neighbours in the ex- 
tent and efificiency of its military and naval 
equipment. The masses of steel and explosives 
were annually increased. In 1913 Germany was 
spending on her army and navy $400,225,000. 
France was spending on her army and navy 
$404,325,000. Great Britain was spending $244,- 
000,000 on her navy and $141,000,000 on her 
army — $385,000,000 on both. Russia was spend- 
ing on her army and navy $513,000,000, while 
the United States was spending on navy and 
army $242,273,000. Five Christian nations 
were spending in time of peace over two billions 
of dollars for the avowed purpose of preventing 
war. The nations moved to and fro in heavy 
armour. This armour irritated the nation that 
wore it, and exasperated all of its neighbours. 
Taxpayers grew increasingly restless, and the 
world groaned under a burden too heavy to be 
borne. 

In order to quiet the world's mind and 



202 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

make the common people submissive to their 
lot, the pedants got to work and devised a 
theory which asserted that armed peace is ac- 
cording to the divine intention, that universal 
military drill is the best of all educations, and 
that there is nothing so beautiful as a nation in 
arms ! It was laid down as axiomatic that gov- 
ernment is founded on force, that war is not 
only necessary but beautiful, and that being 
both noble and necessary it is the supreme busi- 
ness of the State to prepare for it. This is the 
philosophy of militarism. It was held and 
loudly proclaimed by powerful groups in every 
one of the European nations, and also in our 
own, but nowhere was it taught with such 
passionate enthusiasm, or received with such 
general approbation as in Germany. The Ger- 
man mind is nothing if not thorough, and seiz- 
ing the primary assumptions of the militaristic 
philosophy, she dared to carry them out to their 
logical conclusions. The classic of Militarism 
is Bernhardi's " World Power or Downfall." 
Once accept his assumptions, and there is no 
escape from his conclusions. 

It was in the summer of 1895 that I made my 
first trip to Europe, spending a hundred days in 
visiting ten different countries. For the first 
time I had my eyes opened to the condition of 
Europe, and found myself face to face with the 
militaristic philosophy and practice. An Intense 
interest in the whole problem was at once 
created in me, and my fears were deeply aroused. 
I felt I had gotten my eyes on the open sore 



THE CERTAINTY OF HARVEST 203 

of the world. I entered with zest upon a pro- 
longed study of European politics. Militarism 
in all its phases became from that year the field 
of my constant thought and study. From time 
to time I crossed the Atlantic, making fresh 
observations, and extending my investigations. 
The further I went the greater my alarm. The 
schemings of the rings of munition makers, the 
frenzied tactics of the Navy Leagues, the 
poisoned propaganda carried on by unscrupu- 
lous journalists, the wild talk of insolent jingoes 
in every capital, all these pointed to a storm 
which threatened to overwhelm the world. The 
sordid selfishness of the whole European 
political life was appalling, and the rottenness 
of the entire military system was disgusting. 
Europe was in the clutches of a giant which I 
felt certain was sweeping her toward destruc- 
tion. In 1012 it was my privilege to spend 
eight months in Europe, giving me unusual op- 
portunities for observation and reflection. I 
came home early in 1013 with a heavy heart. 
In a lecture recounting the experiences of my 
trip, and delivered on various occasions in dif- 
ferent parts of the country, I said this: 

"As has been my custom on all my former 
trips to Europe through twenty years, I gave 
chief attention to the problem of militarism. I 
have studied it now face to face, in every coun- 
try of Europe, and I came home this time more 
convinced than ever that modern militarism is 
materialism in its deadliest incarnation, that it 
is commercialism in its most voracious and piti- 



204 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

less development, that it is atheism in its most 
seductive and devastating form, that it is the 
most colossal of all extant humbugs, the most 
gigantic swindle since Tetzel sold indulgences. 
I am persuaded that the militaristic hierarchy 
is the most treacherous and despotic and 
dangerous enemy that has lorded it over the 
nations since the power of Rome was shattered, 
and that unless the Christian Church puts on 
the whole armour of God and goes out united to 
make war upon this Goliath that struts in 
armour plate and boasts of bayonets and lyddite 
shells, it renounces the mission to which it has 
been called, and surrenders its position as 
Christ's anointed leader and Saviour of man- 
kind." A year later the war came. 

The great war, then, was the result of a 
policy, and that policy was the product of a 
philosophy — a set of conceptions, a system of 
ideas, which men had been industriously sowing 
through more than a generation. The ideas 
were born in hearts that were greedy and selfish. 
They were promulgated by men whose eyes had 
been blinded by the god of this world. Why 
should we wonder that Europe was at last over- 
whelmed? How was it possible for her to 
escape? The marvel is that she escaped so 
long. The fact that the war did not come till 
1914 is another of the many exhibitions of the 
amazing patience of God. 

But persistent and outrageous defiance of the 
laws of justice and of mercy will, unless re- 
pented of, bring down at last the fire of heaven. 



THE CERTAINTY OF HARVEST 205 

" Though the mills of God grind slowly, 
Yet they grind exceeding small : 
Though with patience He stands waiting, 
With exactness grinds He all." 

The man who stands to-day looking out across 
a devastated world can exclaim in the words of 
Paul : " Behold then the goodness and severity 
of God: toward them that fell severity; but to- 
ward thee, God's goodness, if thou continue in 
his goodness; otherwise thou also shalt be cut 
off." 

We are living in a moral universe. We can- 
not do as we please. We cannot sin with im- 
punity. Nations cannot listen to false guides 
and teachers without falling into the ditch. 
The harvest depends on the seed. We are un- 
der the government of a God of mercy, and 
therefore He will not allow a soldier to be 
placed on every peasant's back. He is a God 
of justice, and therefore He will not allow the 
proceeds of men's labour to be squandered in- 
definitely on the elaborate apparatus of blood. 
He is a God of good will, and therefore He will 
not permit nations to strut in shining armour, 
or to exert so-called diplomatic pressure on 
their neighbours by compelling them to look 
into the mouths of guns. He is a friend of all 
men, and His purpose is to build up a reign of 
love, and therefore He will not forever tolerate 
the demoralizing policy of incessant military 
drill, or give His blessing to a nation which 
prides itself on being a nation in arms. " I hate 
your military paraphernalia. I take no delight 



206 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

in your army and navy maneuvers. Take away 
from me the noise of your target practice. Let 
justice roll down as waters, and righteousness 
as a mighty stream." This is what the Eternal 
has been saying. He that hath ears to hear, let 
him hear. 

But how can we escape the bondage and peril 
of armed peace? There is only one way of 
escape, and that is through world organization. 
The war has demonstrated the utter helpless- 
ness of unarmed nations in the midst of nations 
which are armed. If any nations are to be 
armed, then all nations must be armed. There 
should be no arms except those which are in the 
hands of an international police. Nations must 
learn how to reason together. Nations must 
listen to the words of Jesus. Nations must have 
the law of Christ written on their hearts. 
Christ is not simply a Galilean peasant, with 
sweet suggestions and bits of mild advice. The 
government of the world is on His shoulder. 
He is the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. 
His words are commands. They who trample 
on them are doomed. His will is a stone. He 
that falls on this stone shall be broken to pieces, 
and on whomsoever it shall fall, it will scatter 
him as dust. 



XVII 
A TOO LATE 

OF all the parables of Jesus none is more 
vivid and picturesque than the parable 
of the Ten Virgins. Once heard it can 
never be forgotten. It sticks to the mind like 
a burr. The artists have always loved it. From 
the beginning they have delighted to put it on 
the canvas, and to spread it on the walls of 
churches and cathedrals. In the middle ages 
it formed one of the most popular of all the re- 
ligious plays. There was no audience which 
was not solemnized by the fate of the foolish 
girls who lost their chance to see the wedding. 
The parable was told nineteen hundred years 
ago and it has not yet lost its grip upon the 
imagination. Its colours have not faded. Its 
oriental form does not mar it. Our marriage 
customs have departed widely from those of 
ancient Palestine, but this parable with all its 
foreign imagery seems to be a part of the world 
in which we live. The customs and stage 
settings have changed, but the human actors 
remain the same. We no longer have the 
Palestinian processions and torches, but we 
have the same human impulses and frailties, and 
we are in need of the same old lessons. 

207 



208 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

The parable needs no explanation. That 
shut door needs no commentary. That plead- 
ing cry of the disappointed maidens demands 
no emphasizing word. The idea which the 
parable drives deep into the heart is that a door 
once shut may refuse to open, that we are liv- 
ing in a universe in which it is possible to be 
everlastingly too late. 

This lesson is written large in the New Testa- 
ment, and it is vivid also in the Old. In the 
first book of the Bible stands the old story of 
Esau and his birthright and the mess of 
pottage, and no other Bible story has gotten a 
more tenacious grip on the world's heart than 
that one. Hebrew fathers through successive 
generations repeated that story to their chil- 
dren, warning them of the peril of losing some- 
thing which they never can regain. Nearly two 
thousand years after the time of Esau, his figure 
was still fresh to the imagination of the Jewish 
people, and a Christian writer of the first cen- 
tury, desiring to warn church members of the 
peril of losing an opportunity which will not 
return, holds up before them Esau knocking at 
a door which refuses to open. Esau longed for 
his lost birthright, but could not get it. He 
sought for a place of repentance, but though he 
sought it with tears, it could not be found. Re- 
ligion has but one language — " Now is the ac- 
ceptable time, now is the day of salvation." 
Prophets and apostles and our Lord Himself all 
unite in warning us against the humiliation and 
loss which befalls those who by the neglect of 



A TOO LATE 209 

present duties come up at last to a crisis for 
which they are not prepared. There is no 
tragedy more awesome than the tragedy of the 
shut door. 

The parable of the Virgins is kept fresh and 
up to date by the daily experience of mankind. 
We cannot forget it because life repeats it in 
constantly changing forms. Each generation is 
obliged to learn the lesson afresh, that there is 
such a thing as a too late. To each one of us, 
sooner or later, the solemn lesson is imparted. 
We start out in life heedless and jubilant, con- 
fident that we are able to do all that our heart 
desires. The days are long and the years are 
interminable, and we have no fear of a closing 
door. Multitudes of doors stand wide open, and 
we can enter the door of our choice. If, per- 
chance, a door should be closed, we are sure we 
could open it again. 

But as life advances, we discover that doors 
have a fashion of closing, and that many of 
them when once closed cannot be opened again. 
We did not learn a foreign language in our 
teens. We were careless and postponed it to 
some future day. When in middle life we 
turned to that language, we were appalled to 
discover we were too late. The door was shut, 
and though we made strenuous efforts to push 
it open, our efforts were vain. We could with 
painful difficulty learn to read it a little, but to 
learn to speak it was beyond our power. That 
door was shut. When we were young we failed 
to master the piano, or the organ, or the violin, 



210 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT U9 

or the harp. Musical instruments lay all about 
us, and we felt we could take up one of them 
later on. But when the convenient season ar- 
rived we were in middle life, and our teacher 
frankly told us it was too late. The door was 
shut. There was no room for repentance. In 
the days of our youth we shunned the drudgery 
of exercises in singing or speaking. Later on 
our ambition awoke, and we wanted to become 
a master of speech or of song. We envied great 
speakers and singers, and wanted to be with 
them. The door was shut and we could not 
go in. 

The most amazing feature of the war in 1914 
was that nobody seemed to want it. It pushed 
itself upon the stage in spite of the protests of 
the nations which engaged in it. No one can 
truly say that the peoples of Europe wanted it. 
The peoples of Europe more than the peoples of 
any other continent knew what war is, and 
therefore they shrank in horror from it. The 
common man has no desire to engage in human 
slaughter. He hates war. He wants to stay at 
home with his wife and children. Nor did the 
rulers desire war. That was certainly true of 
Emperor Franz Joseph. He was an old man 
standing on the verge of the grave. It was with 
sorrow that he consented to enter a war he was 
powerless to prevent. The Emperor of Russia 
was not a warrior. He had no love for carnage. 
His face proclaimed to the world that he was a 
peace lover. He tried to escape the war, but 
failed. The President of France, and the King 



A TOO LATE 211 

of Belgium, and the King of England were all 
men of peace. Every one of them abhorred 
war, and did his utmost to save his country from 
the awful scourge. The only crowned head of 
Europe who has ever been accused by any one 
of desiring the war was the Kaiser. But here 
we move in a region in which everything is dis- 
puted. Ever since 1914 stories have been com- 
ing out of Germany declaring that the Kaiser 
himself went into the war with reluctance, 
driven forward by forces he was impotent to 
control. 

A careful study of the official documents 
issued in 1914 by the various governments is 
sufficient to prove that the statesmen of Europe 
did not desire the war. Many of them made 
earnest and repeated efforts to ward it off. In 
every country, including Germany, there were 
men in high places whose heart was set upon 
peace, and who made an honest struggle to save 
Europe from the impending disaster. Among 
the company of those who worked hardest for 
peace. Sir Edward Grey holds the most promi- 
nent place. He seemed likely to succeed. He 
was apparently on the point of succeeding. If 
he could have had forty-eight hours more it 
looks as though he might have succeeded. But 
in every country the effort turned out to be too 
late. In reading the story of those fateful days 
in July, one always feels that if this thing or 
that thing had only been done a day sooner, 
then the whole outcome would have been dif- 
ferent. But every effort, no matter by whom 



212 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

made, was made in vain. Some mighty and in- 
visible power seemed to have shut the door of 
the palace of peace, and it was impossible for 
kings or diplomats or peoples to open it. 

Here then is one of the most amazing and 
thrilling spectacles in the history of the world, 
a continent sliding into the most horrible of all 
wars, every nation loudly protesting that it un- 
sheathed the sword against its will. When did 
Alexander or Hannibal or Caesar or Tiglath- 
Pileser or Ramses or Napoleon ever say : " I am 
fighting, but my heart is not in it. I would 
escape if I could"? It was reserved for the 
twentieth century to behold rulers driving their 
chariots of war to the field of blood not guided 
by their own judgment, but coerced by a mys- 
terious power in whose grip they were helpless. 
When their eyes opened on the abyss into which 
they were plunging, they all wanted to turn 
back. It was too late. 

Why was it too late? Because men through 
forty years had been preparing for war. The 
nations had neglected every warning. Prophet 
after prophet had been sent, saying: " You are 
on the road that leads to destruction," but not 
one of the prophets had been heeded. They 
had all been pelted with slander and ridicule. 
They were called pacifists, and the name was 
uttered with a hiss. Events one after another, 
like so many John the Baptists endeavouring to 
make straight the paths of the Lord, had come 
out to warn the nations of their peril, but to the 
teaching of every event the world's ear was 



A TOO LATE 213 

deaf. The Algeciras crisis came and went. It 
is amazing Europe could not see what it meant. 
The Agadir crisis came and went. It had a 
deep and ominous significance, but Europe gave 
no heed. The increasing bitterness of the jour- 
nahsts, the increasing greed of the munition 
makers, the increasing frenzy of the mihtarists, 
and the increasing discontent in the hearts of 
the masses, should have caused all statesmen to 
set their house in order, to mobilize all the 
forces of the nations for turning their feet into 
a different path, but Europe went on, eating and 
drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, un- 
til the flood came. It is the plain and emphatic 
teaching of the physical world that you can put 
off a needed action too long. You can fail to 
pay attention to a cough until the best doctor in 
the town will say when consulted : " You are 
too late." The cancer may be allowed to eat 
into the flesh day after day until the greatest 
of the experts is obliged to tell the patient: " It 
is too late." A man who is the victim of a vice 
may stagger along the downward way squander- 
ing the substance of his will at every step, until 
at last he begins to say to every one who tries 
to check him in his course — " It is too late." 
In every life there comes a day on which there 
is found no place of repentance even though one 
seeks it diligently with tears. 

The attempt of Sir Edward Grey to improvise 
a tribunal for the purpose of saving Europe 
from shipwreck is one of the most pathetic 
events in history. His ability was great, his 



214 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

aim was high, his good will was genuine and 
passionate. If any man in the world could 
have succeeded he was the man. But he failed. 
He was too late. He and other statesmen of 
Europe ought to have devised the necessary in- 
ternational machinery long before. In time of 
peace they ought to have worked day and night 
for the securing of a larger and deeper peace. 
But the whole world was in bondage to a false 
maxim — " In time of peace prepare for war," 
and so when the clock struck, the machinery of 
war was all ready, and the machinery of peace 
was frail and inadequate. No nation had given 
itself whole-heartedly in the days of peace to 
safeguarding the world against the calamity 
which was daily threatening it. Furious efforts 
were made every year to increase the number 
of the guns and the shells and the ships, and only 
occasional and half-hearted attempts were made 
by those in authority to get the world's life into 
a different channel. When at last a genuine 
effort was put forth to devise the necessary 
machinery, it was too late. The wind was blow- 
ing a hurricane, and nothing improvised on the 
spur of the moment could stand in that fearful 
gale. The firing of the shot in the street of 
Serajevo had released forces which took the 
direction of events out of diplomatic hands. 
Diplomats are mighty if they act in time: if 
they procrastinate too long, God tosses them 
aside paralyzed and disgraced. If they seize the 
opportunity when it is offered, they are masters 
of events, but if they let the opportunity slip 



A TOO LATE 216 

they are as so many straws on the surface of a 
raging stream. It is too late to stop a glacier 
after it has broken loose from its mountain 
moorings. No matter what devastation it may 
work, it will go on until it reaches the destina- 
tion which has been determined for it by the in- 
teraction of the forces of the world. The boat on 
the Niagara River which ventures too close to 
the falls will go over, no matter what its occu- 
pants wish or do. There was a time when the 
boat was their willing servant. It was for them 
to determine in what direction it should go. 
But having allowed it to pass a fateful point, its 
management is taken over by the river, and 
after that human strength and skill are of no 
avail. An automobile plunging over the pali- 
sades passes at once out of the control of the 
chauffeur. The heavier and the more magnifi- 
cent the car, the more speedily is it dashed to 
pieces on the rocks below. 

Everybody knows that there are times when 
wishes are useless and when prayers count for 
nothing. God has told us in our experience 
that it is sometimes too late to pray. When 
a man is plunging over a precipice it is then too 
late to pray that he may not fall. When the 
dam has broken it is too late to pray that the 
water may not run down the hill. When the 
fire is leaping from doors and windows, it is 
too late to ask God to save the house. 

There were good men and women in August, 
1914, who felt that even then Europe might be 
saved by prayer. The glacier had begun to 



216 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

move, but some imagined that prayer would 
stop it in its course. The reservoir had broken, 
but some fancied that by seeking repentance 
with tears the rushing waters might be held 
back. The chariot of European civilization had 
tumbled over the precipice, but there were those 
who dared to think that by prayers and wishes 
the chariot could be kept from going to the 
bottom. 

The war has burned into the human mind the 
appalling truth that it is possible to be too late. 
We can sin away our day of grace, and so also 
can nations. Rome reached a day when it was 
impossible to save her. Europe arrived at a 
point where rescue became impossible. The 
uselessness of wishes, the futility of prayers, the 
bootlessness of regrets, all these have been re- 
vealed in the fire of the great war. It is not 
enough to wish that peace may be preserved. It 
is not enough to regret that war has laid waste 
the earth. Neither wishes nor regrets suspend 
the penalty which awaits the man or nation who 
is too late. Prayer is efficacious within certain 
limits. We shall pray with greater efficiency 
when we learn to pray according to law. God 
does not allow us to substitute prayer for work. 
Europe was not a prayerless continent. Possi- 
bly from no other continent in the world did so 
many prayers ascend daily as from the conti- 
nent which slid into the lake of fire. There is a 
point beyond which prayer has no efficacy. It 
becomes mere sound and fury signifying noth- 
ing. 



A TOO LATE 217 

If we are wise we shall go to work at once 
to make the recurrence of this world tragedy 
impossible. We have tried the experiment of 
piling up explosives, and we now know that 
after the pile has reached a certain height, 
there is an explosion. We have tried the ex- 
periment of multiplying guns, and we have 
found out that after a certain number has been 
reached the guns belch death. We have reck- 
lessly driven along a dangerous road insuffi- 
ciently protected from the chasms on both sides, 
and the time has arrived for us at an enormous 
expense of thought and gold to make the road 
safe for our descendants. 

Now is the acceptable time to take in hand 
the work of world organization. Now is the 
day when it is possible to work out the world's 
salvation. This generation has a preparedness 
of heart for creating schemes of world govern- 
ment which the generation which comes after us 
will not possess. Experience has taught us as 
it has taught no preceding generation, the in- 
calculable loss which follows the neglect of duty 
clearly seen. Every man with eyes saw that 
the world was moving in a direction that was 
wrong. Every man who believed that the New 
Testament contains a revelation of God's char- 
acter and will was certain that the political 
philosophy of our day was false, and that the 
program of political action in the realm of 
international life was under the condemnation of 
heaven. But we allowed the world to drift. 
We kept our hearts calm by our hopes. We 



218 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

hoped that all things would come out for th« 
best. We hoped that in some way or other a 
sudden change would take place. Our wishes 
were fervent and noble. Our prayers were 
frequent and honest. We postponed doing the 
one thing which was essential. We did not 
organize the political life of the world. We did 
not make a drive for a closer federation of the 
Great Powers. We did not spend either our 
time or our money in creating the political ma- 
chinery by which the passions of nations could 
be held in check. 

We now see our error. We know just where 
we failed. We are still bleeding from the 
wounds we received from a God who chastens 
men who are dilatory and do not arrive at ap- 
pointed destinations on time. The work of our 
generation has been blocked out for us. We 
are to create a new political world. We are to 
federate all the nations. We are called to 
sweeten the springs of international good-will, 
and also to create channels through which these 
waters of life may flow. The League of Na- 
tions is a dream in the hearts of idealists. At a 
great price it must be worked into political 
machinery. It is a city of God high up in the 
clouds. It is coming down, and all good men 
should unite in hastening its coming. 

The human race entered a new era of happi- 
ness and freedom, when near the end of the 
eighteenth century a few intrepid souls wrote 
the Constitution of the United States. The 
work was done in the midst of innumerable 



A TOO LATE 219 

difficulties and obstacles, and with many fears 
and misgivings. But the Government then 
created has become a beacon light to all the 
world. The men who created the American 
Republic wrote their names on the roll of the 
Immortals. There must be a United States of 
Europe, and there must be a United States of 
the world. Nations belong together, since God 
has made of one all the inhabitants of the earth, 
and this oneness of life must be given expres- 
sion in laws and customs and institutions. The 
nations are already leagued in many ways in 
thought and feeling and action, and this work of 
federation must be carried further in order that 
friction may be reduced, and good-will may 
have new instruments through which it may 
find expression. They are poor counsellors who 
say: " Let us put this League of Nations in the 
future. Let us settle more pressing problems, 
and allow this colossal problem to wait." No, 
it must not wait. Now is the time to create the 
Parliament of Man, the federation of the world. 
A wide door has been opened. We must enter 
before it is too late. 



XVIII 
THE PLACE OF DEATH 

THERE are many strange notions in 
the heads of people who never go to 
church, and one of the strangest is that 
preachers are never so happy as when they are 
preaching about death. There is a curious de- 
lusion in the hearts of persons who do not read 
the Bible. They imagine that the Bible is a 
book which is concerned chiefly about death. 
They think this probably because they have 
been at a funeral at which the minister read 
something out of the Bible. Death and the 
Bible become associated forever afterward in 
their thoughts. Men and women who know 
little of the Christian religion often imagine that 
the chief aim of religion is to prepare men for 
death. They do not like religion because it sug- 
gests a graveyard. They have no desire to be- 
come religious, because in that case it would be 
necessary for them to meditate often on death. 
These are pathetic errors. They are the 
creation of an ignorant fancy, specters that prey 
on uninstructed hearts. What all such persons 
need is information. They are the victims of 
delusions. They walk in darkness when the 

220 



THE PLACE OF DEATH 221 

light is all around them. Preachers preach sel- 
dom about death. Their great theme is life. 
It is not life in some other world, but in this 
world. Every preacher gives the bulk of his 
time and thought to life in this world. Death 
is only incidental in his thinking. The Bible is 
the sanest and healthiest of all books. There is 
not a morbid chapter in it. There is no brood- 
ing, no moping, no whimpering. There are no 
paragraphs devoted to cemeteries. There are 
no soliloquizings over the mystery of death. 
From first to last the Bible is free from sickly 
moods, and it looks into the face of death with- 
out a moan or tremor. 

Christianity is the religion of Jesus, and Jesus 
seldom referred to death. He did not like the 
word. He preferred the word sleep. That was 
the softest and sweetest word within His reach, 
and so He used it. When He spoke of Himself 
He said: "I am the Hfe," and when He ex- 
pressed the purpose of His coming into the 
world He said : " I am come that you may have 
life, and have it more abundantly." The theme 
on which He loved to talk was life, and to fill 
human life fuller of peace and power and joy 
was His supreme ambition. 

The religion of Jesus Christ assumes that 
death is a part of God's plan for man. It does 
not dwell upon it or magnify it. It quietly as- 
sumes it, and goes on to deal with more im- 
portant matters. Even in the upper chamber 
on the last night, Jesus did not dwell upon 
death. His disciples were all thinking about it, 



222 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

but He was not. He was thinking of the life 
which His disciples were going to live in this 
world. He assumed that death is but an inci- 
dent, a transitory event in the career of the 
spirit. It is a circumstance which has a place 
in the journey from the cradle to the grave. It 
is a fleeting experience which every soul must 
pass through. It is a cup of which every mortal 
must drink. Death is assumed, but never mag- 
nified. It is mentioned, but never elaborated. 
It is glanced at, but never dwelt on. Jesus' 
mind was always intent on life. 

It was because of Jesus' love of life that He 
looked upon death as an enemy. It was an 
enemy, however, which is not to be feared. Its 
power is imaginary, not real. Its horror is 
fictitious and not genuine. When He sent His 
disciples out to preach He knew that they would 
be afraid of being killed, but He told them to 
have no fear of death. That was an enemy of 
which they need take no account. He set Him- 
self against the traditional attitude of the world. 
The world had always exaggerated the power 
and terror of death. He would acknowledge 
neither. He Himself went fearlessly to the 
cross, and He said to His disciples: "Follow 
me." He breathed this intrepid and tri- 
umphant spirit into all who came near Him. 
Paul expresses the innermost feeling of the 
Christian believer when he says: "O death, 
where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy vic- 
tory?" 

Jesus had no fear of death and no shrinking^ 



THE PLACE OF DEATH 223 

from it because He knew that it cannot harm us 
and that the soul can make use of it for advanc- 
ing the purposes of God. A man has the privi- 
lege of giving his life for a great cause. It is 
possible to advance a moral principle by dying 
for it. The life of the world may be sweetened 
and purified by death. It is a glorious thing 
then to die for others. Dying for others takes 
away the sting of death and gives it an eternal 
splendour. When Jesus thought of His own 
death, He always thought of the things which 
His death would accomplish. The Son of Man, 
He said, had come to give His life a ransom for 
many. He could not fear or hate death when 
He knew that by His death He was going to 
give liberty to millions. Moreover, death gave 
Him an opportunity to reveal what was in Him. 
He had spoken much of sacrificial love, but 
sacrificial love cannot be expressed completely 
in words. A man can show the deepest that is 
in him only by dying. Devotion, loyalty, fidel- 
ity, all these reach their highest form of beauty 
and impressiveness in the willingness to lay 
down one's life. " Greater love has no man 
than this that a man lay down his life for his 
friends." Jesus had loved His disciples. He 
had shown this love in word and deed. He 
was willing to show it in a still higher and more 
convincing way. He was ready to die for them. 
It was by His death that He expected to make 
an unfading impression on the hard heart of the 
world. His words had proved largely in- 
effective. He had sowed the seed, but some of 



224 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

it had been devoured by the birds, some had 
fallen in stony places, and others had been 
choked by the thorns. He had lived a brave 
and loving life, but even this had made only a 
feeble impression on the masses of His country- 
men. He was not, however, discouraged. One 
more resource remained to Him. He could do 
more than teach, and act; He could die. By 
dying He could accomplish what could not be 
achieved either by teaching or working miracles. 
"And I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto 
me." Death to Him is a form of power. It is 
a force which God makes use of in the develop- 
ment of the world. 

And so Jesus was not made gloomy by the 
thought of His death. He greeted it as an op- 
portunity to help mankind. When Peter cried 
out in protest against the thought of Jesus 
dying, Jesus reminded him that he was think- 
ing and feeling like a man of the world, and had 
not yet risen to the viewpoint of a man who un- 
derstands the nature of life and death, and who 
has entered into the plans of God. He was 
ready to die even the death of the cross, the 
most horrible form of death which the imagina- 
tion at that time was able to conceive, for He 
was certain that by His death the purposes of 
God would be forwarded, and that His life would 
enter in fuller and richer ways into the mind 
and heart of mankind. 

Joyful Himself, it was His desire to keep the 
hearts of His followers jubilant. In order to 
help them rejoice. He told them to think often 



THE PLACE OF DEATH 225 

of His death. They were to take bread as the 
symbol of His broken body, and wine as the 
symbol of His poured-out blood. They were to 
do this in remembrance of Him, By doing this 
they would commemorate His death until He 
returned. 

The Christian Church has kept alive through 
nineteen hundred years this estimate of the 
death of Jesus. When Christians think of 
Jesus' dying, they do not think of His death 
with sadness, but with gratitude and joy. The 
tragedy of Golgotha does not depress them, but 
lifts them up and helps them sing. It is amaz- 
ing that death even in the hideous form of 
crucifixion has lost its ugliness for the man who 
is genuinely Christian. It is a miracle of God's 
grace that makes it possible for millions of men 
and women around the earth to sing with glow- 
ing hearts : 

" In the cross of Christ I glory, 

Tow'ring o'er the wrecks of time ; 
All the light of sacred story 
Gathers round its head sublime." 

The great war has brought us into a more 
Christian attitude to the experience which over- 
takes us all at last. The whole world is more 
Christian in its thought of death than it was five 
years ago. War, like the New Testament, as- 
sumes that death is a part of the Eternal plan. 
There can be no war without death. When the 
military bugles blow death is immediately as- 
sumed as an experience which cannot be 



226 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

escaped. No man can be a soldier without at 
once admitting death into the circle of his daily 
thoughts. A soldier expects to face death. To 
face it is a part of the army and navy program. 
A general making his plans for a battle always 
calculates the number of the dead. He assumes 
that thousands must be sacrificed. His only 
questions are: Where shall the sacrifices be 
made, and to what extent may they be wisely 
carried? 

Men in service look upon death as an incident. 
In times of fighting it is the most common of all 
the incidents of the crowded days. Soldiers see 
their fellows die on the right and on the left, 
and are not daunted by it. This is only inci- 
dental. This is a part of the day's work. This 
must be expected if the victory is to be won. 
In a bloody campaign men get used to death. 
It is as common and natural as eating. Com- 
panies will proceed unhesitatingly into a woods 
where the preceding company an hour ago was 
annihilated. A regiment will march with un- 
faltering step along a road made slippery with 
the blood of the regiment which went on before 
it. War adopts the New Testament assump- 
tion that death is not of cardinal importance, it is 
an incident, an experience, which the soul meets 
on its progress toward a goal. 

Soldiers look upon death as an enemy to be 
conquered. They put death beneath their feet. 
No soldier counts himself to have been per- 
fected until he has reached the point where he 
is ready to die. " I'll see you again some day 



THE PLACE OF DEATH 227 

on Broadway," said an American in France to a 
British aviator. " No you won't," was the swift 
reply. " We go over once and come back, and 
maybe twice, and possibly three or four times, 
but the time will come when we shall not come 
back. We all count ourselves dead men." 
That man had already conquered death. There 
was nothing more for him to fear. 

War makes use of death for definite ends. 
Men are not sacrificed aimlessly. A general 
fights to win a victory that by the victory some 
desired blessing may come to mankind. Liberty 
must be bought, and the price which must be 
paid is blood. Justice must be secured, and the 
only way to get it is by death. Righteousness 
must be established, and to establish it thou- 
sands of men must lay down their lives. They 
must give their lives for others. This was the 
most thrilling spectacle of the war — thousands 
of men laying down their lives for others. Men 
who had taken little interest in religion or 
churches found themselves on the battle-field 
entering into the spirit of Jesus, who, when He 
died, felt He was giving His life a ransom for 
many. There were men, women and children 
in Belgium, and also in France, who were under 
the heel of the German oppressor, and when 
they felt that by dying they could break the op- 
pressor's power, then death no longer had 
terrors. 

Thousands of men experienced a spiritual ex- 
altation on the battle-field which they had never 
known before, and the cause of it was their be- 



228 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

lief that by dying they should share in the 
emancipation of the world. When a cause is 
sufificiently noble, men have no hesitation in 
dying for it. By dying they not only break the 
power of the tyrant, but soften and purify the 
heart of the whole world. When the Twenty- 
seventh Division on March 25th moved up Fifth 
Avenue there were many features which power- 
fully afifected the heart. Those masses of young 
men in their helmets, fresh from the front, 
marching between vast banks of human beings 
eager to get a glimpse of them, the long lines 
of automobiles filled with the wounded, the cap- 
tured guns once the possession of the mightiest 
military monarchy that ever frightened the 
world, the officers on their horses, the playing 
bands, the regimental flags, all these appealed to 
the eye and reached the heart. But there was 
one feature of the parade which in impressive- 
ness surpassed all the others, it was the Service 
Flag of the Division, containing nearly two thou- 
sand gold stars. When that flag appeared the 
crowds became silent. They could not cheer 
for a long time after it had passed. Many a 
cheek in the crowd was wet. We cannot shout 
when we are crying. The service flag spoke as 
nothing else in the whole parade to the imagina- 
tion, and through the imagination it reached the 
heart. The gold stars symbolized boys who 
had died. They had made the complete sacri- 
fice. They had died for us. They had given 
their life for the world. When we looked at the 
stars we saw also the two thousand graves in 



THE PLACE OF DEATH 



229 



France, and the two thousand empty chairs at 
home, and the two thousand fathers and the 
two thousand mothers for whom hfe will never 
be the same again. As we gazed at the flag 
the whole mystery of death stood out before 
us-the mystery of sacrificial death-and we 
felt as possibly never before that sacrificial 
death is beautiful, that it is a glorious thing to 
die for a great ideal. 

This then, is what the war should do for us 
every one-it should give us a saner and more 
wholesome estimate of death. Some of us 
perhaps, have been needlessly concerned about 
the end of life. We have in our somber moods 
allowed ourselves to brood too long upon the 
tave We have magnified God's servant death 
and have distorted all his features, and have 
terrified our souls by our timid imaginations 
The war has brought us into a more normal 
mood We shall never be so afraid of deatli 
aeain Ml these thousands of boys meetmg 
death bravely have taken out of death its sting 
If they were not afraid to die, why should we 
fear? The road to the grave has been trave led 
recently by so many millions of feet, we shall 
not feel afraid when our own name shall be 
called. Young men of all countries have shown 
what spirit is in them. It has reminded us of 
the spirit of Jesus. He was young and He had 
everything to live for, but when death star d 
Him in the face He did not cower or remble. 
" The cup that my Father has given me to drink, 
shall I not drink it?" In the twentieth cen- 



230 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

tury millions of men have met death in the same 
spirit. No wonder the whole earth now seems 
holy ground. 

And what does death lead to? The question 
has always been with us, but it now comes with 
a fresh edge and power. Where have all these 
boys gone? What are they doing? How will 
God make up for them what they lost here? 
We do not think so much of the moment in 
which they died, as we think of their life before 
they became soldiers, and of their life which is 
now appointed them beyond our sight. In- 
stinctively we fall into the manner of Jesus. 
He dwelt not on the agony of death, but on 
what went before and what is to come after. 
The war has given us a new certainty of the 
life eternal, and has increased our curiosity to 
know what lies beyond the veil. For millions 
it will be easier to die now that such vast armies 
have gone on before them. Death we now know 
is a stepping-stone to higher things. 

Death is indeed a form of power, a force 
which God makes use of in redeeming mankind. 
There are on our planet eight millions of fresh 
graves dug by the war. Western Europe has 
become a cemetery, and on this cemetery we 
are to build a better world. We become fitted 
for our work by thinking lovingly of those who 
have died. They have made the supreme sacri- 
fice, shall we refuse to make sacrifices of our 
own? If they in war laid down their life for a 
noble cause, shall we do less in time of peace? 
They gave their blood that mankind might live 



THE PLACE OF DEATH 231 

a freer and a happier life. What are we going 
to give to complete the work which they began? 
War is a mighty teacher, and it is through death 
that she teaches her most impressive lessons. 
Death herself is a teacher, and now that she 
has come in a colossal form, the heart must 
needs be attentive and the soul will give a 
swifter response to the call from the heights. 
Death gives wings to the aspirations, death 
cleanses the eyes. Death sheds forth a light 
and in that light we see more clearly what is the 
place and power of death. The war leaves us 
with death beneath our feet. Men had told us 
that with the increasing sharpness of the instru- 
ments of destruction, human flesh could no 
longer stand. We now know that death has 
no terror for men who feel sure they are fight- 
ing for the right. " Do not be afraid," said 
Jesus, " of those who kill the body." He said 
it to our soldiers, and their reply was, " We are 
not afraid." 

It was by death that the forces were released 
which brought low the power of Potsdam. It 
is by remembering our dead heroes that we are 
to become strengthened and cleansed for the 
mighty work which God has given us to do. 
Al)raham Lincoln was touched and thrilled by 
the sight of the graves in the cemetery at 
Gettysburg. He felt that he stood on hallowed 
ground. Those graves spoke to him a message 
which he expressed in immortal speech. They 
reminded him of a task which was incomplete, 
they told him of a sacrifice already past: they 



232 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

spoke of a sacrifice yet to come. They related 
the story of a work which had been accom- 
pHshed: they pointed to a work which was only 
just begun. The cemetery in Gettysburg 
brought Lincoln to the hour of a fresh dedica- 
tion of his soul. Pledging himself anew to the 
great work remaining, he called upon all Amer- 
icans to devote themselves with a spirit equal 
to that of the dead to the bringing in of a new 
age of freedom, and to the safeguarding of the 
principles of the founders of our Republic, so 
that government of the people, by the people, 
and for the people might never perish from the 
earth. 

We, like Lincoln, are in a cemetery. Out 
from where we stand there stretch in all direc- 
tions lines of unnumbered graves. Here lie the 
men who gave their lives in the greatest of all 
the wars, not for the liberty of our country, but 
for the liberty of all the world. Thinking of 
what they suffered and how they died, let us 
pledge ourselves anew to the cause of justice 
and freedom. Let us pray that through us 
there may come upon the earth a new baptism 
of righteousness and good-will. Awed by the 
consciousness that we are walking on an earth 
which has been bought again by blood, let us 
from this time forward be better men and 
women working always for a better world. 



XIX 
THE PROGRESSIVE BRUTALITY OF WAR 

WAR is inherently and incorrigibly 
brutal. It has always been brutal, is 
brutal still, and brutal it must always 
be. War would cease to be war if it laid aside 
its brutality. It is impossible to humanize war, 
and therefore it is impossible to Christianize it. 
To the end it must remain what it has been from 
the beginning, the most barbarous and heartless 
of all forms of brutality. 

The idea of brutality involves three elements. 
First, there is the dominance of physical force. 
A brute is nothing but a bundle of force. 
Whatever he accomplishes he does by his 
physical energy. War uses brain, but it achieves 
its ends by the manipulation of physical forces. 
It smashes, and grinds, and crushes like a wild 
beast. A second element is heartlessness. A 
beast lacks sensibility. It is deaf to appeals for 
mercy. It is dead to the feeling of compassion. 
A hyena or tiger pays no attention to human 
pleadings. Nor does war. It is blind to the 
helplessness of the aged man whose home it 
blows to pieces over his head; it is deaf to the 

^33 



234 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

cry of the widow who pleads for the life of her 
only son. The third mark of brutality is in- 
discriminateness. A brute makes no distinc- 
tions. A mad dog lacerates the legs of horses 
and the legs of little children alike. A mad bull 
gores an invalid woman with the same wild fury 
with which he gores a matador's horse. War 
has no time for distinctions. It has no taste for 
nice perceptions. It sweeps the whole city — 
guilty and innocent alike — to destruction ; it 
overwhelms the evil and the good, the young 
and the old, the virtuous and the vicious in a 
common ruin. It has the crowning character- 
istics and habits of a brute. 

Let no one ever say then that war is a gentle- 
man's game. Napoleon Bonaparte knew war, 
and he called it the trade of barbarians. That 
is what it is. Allow no one to assert in your 
presence that war is a royal sport. It is royal 
only in the eyes of moral idiots. Rebuke the 
man who dares to prate about the glory of war. 
War has no glory. Men can display glorious 
traits in the midst of war, just as the human 
spirit can shine in the midst of a pestilence or a 
vast conflagration, but war itself is not glorious: 
it is beastly, inhuman, hideous and revolting. 

The latest orgy of blood has stripped war of 
its shining robes, and we now see it in all its 
naked loathsomeness. The Spirit of Evil has 
industriously laboured to beguile mankind into 
thinking that war is splendid. To do this, it 
has used every form of art and every trick of 
sophistry. The artist has endeavoured on can- 



THE PEOGEESSIYE BRUTALITY OF WAR 235 

vas and in marble and in verse, to blind the eyes 
of the world to what war really is. He has im^ 
parted to it a glamour, a romance, a poetic love- 
liness which has deceived many even of the 
elect. The historian, by richly coloured descrip- 
tions of famous generals, and by glowing pic- 
tures of victorious armies, has kept the eyes of 
the world away from war's infamies and horrors, 
the agonies of men wrestling with death, and 
the rotting corpses of the nameless dead. 

The devotees of the god of war have in every 
generation blunted the edge of the world's in- 
stinctive detestation of wholesale butchery by 
flaunting in the face of the people the dazzling 
colours of military finery. Gaping crowds from 
the sidewalks have gazed with admiration on 
the gold and the scarlet and the purple of the 
military parade, foolishly supposing that these 
were the colours of war. The colours of war 
are the colours of mud, and grime, and filth, of 
pus and gangrened flesh and clotted blood, of 
cheeks that are hot with pain and of faces that 
are cold in death. A military procession on a 
holiday is indeed a picturesque entertainment. 
The colours appeal to the eye, and the thrilling 
notes of the fife and drum set the corpuscles of 
the blood all dancing. But this is not the music 
of war. The music of war is the sobbing of 
children, and the moans of women, and the 
shrieks and curses of dying men. 

Let no one be deceived by the bespangled 
splendour of military maneuvers. The rhyth- 
mical tread of disciplined feet, and the glint on 



236 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

the steel of the rays of the sun, and the grace- 
ful swing of the bodies of men, as file upon file 
they move on their way, swiftly obedient to the 
commander's word, create a spectacle which 
plays on the senses and intoxicates the mind. 
But this glittering display is not of the essence 
of war. The holiday parade is not the proces- 
sion of war. In the procession which is mobil- 
ized and conducted by war, men hobble on 
crutches, and stagger on legs which have been 
paralyzed, and are borne along in ambulances 
and litters, and roll sightless eyeballs on the 
beautiful world. The worshippers of Mars have 
played upon the senses. By beguiling the eye 
and the ear they have hoodwinked a thousand 
generations into taking part in the stupid glorifi- 
cation of war. 

While one set of the war sophists have blinded 
the senses another set have debauched the mind. 
Schools of paganized thinkers have steadfastly 
maintained that war is inevitable, a biological 
necessity, an ineradicable feature of the present 
world order. " Men have always fought, and 
therefore they always will fight! " "You can- 
not change human nature ! " Moreover, war, it 
is claimed, is " a school of virtue." " It saves 
men from becoming effeminate and flabby. It 
is a tonic which the good God administers from 
time to time to keep the moral fiber of humanity 
from rotting." " Nations are lost unless they 
keep the fighting edge. The fighting edge can 
be kept only by the periodical recurrence of 
war." These are the embroidered veils which 



THE PEOGEESSIYE BRUTALITY OF WAR 237 

a barbaric philosophy has thrown over the face 
of war to hide its hideousness. They are masks 
which the miHtarists have made use of when 
urging the world to worship the idol of military 
preparedness. The great war has torn of¥ the 
masks. It has burnt up the veils. The delicate 
network of lies which the war-lords have woven 
round the bloody head of the ancient monster 
has been completely destroyed, and the whole 
world now knows that war is a grizzly, ghastly, 
damnable abomination. Its brutality stands 
out naked, hideous, unforgetable. Philip Gibbs 
is only one of many observers who have written 
descriptions which are burned into the fiber of 
the mind. The story of how British soldiers 
were shot to pieces, buried alive, seared inside 
and out by poison gas, driven insane by shell 
shock, burned by liquid flame, and drowned in 
the bogs of Flanders, is a story to strike dumb 
the tongues of the moral imbeciles who have 
prattled about the glory of war. All men of 
sound sense and good-will are saying: "This 
must be the last war." 

War is brutal, indescribably and incurably 
brutal. Certain instruments made use of for 
the first time in this war have received hot con- 
demnation on the ground of their brutality. 
Because of their novelty they have given a 
shock to the imagination which older devices 
no longer give. But let us remember that war 
was disgustingly brutal before the submarine 
was invented, or the aeroplane climbed into the 
sky, or the poisonous gases were sent creeping 



238 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

across the fields. The bayonet is the very 
epitome of brutahty. No more cruel instru- 
ment was ever invented. Every nation has 
made use of it. No nation has ever yet offered 
to lay it aside. It is counted indispensable by 
all the military authorities. No one of them 
can conceive a nation surrendering the use of it. 
In every land battle it is the last resort. When 
everything else is lost there is still hope, if sol- 
diers retain their bayonets. But what is a 
bayonet? It is a piece of sharpened steel manu- 
factured for the express purpose of piercing a 
human abdomen, of gouging a hole in human 
lungs, of jabbing out human eyes. What right 
has any nation which makes use of the bayonet 
to protest against any other instrument on the 
ground that it is cruel? Why cry out against 
cruelty when the bayonet is universally exalted 
as one of the most honoured instruments of 
war? The bayonet is the symbol and incarna- 
tion of the soul of war. By the bayonet war 
stands forever condemned. 

The philosophy of frightfulness amazes and 
sickens us when we read it in the volumes of 
the military experts who have advocated it, but 
what is war but one long drawn act of frightful- 
ness? Is not war human butchery? How can 
human butchery be anything else than fright- 
ful? Much has been said about the atrocities 
of the war, such as the cutting ofiF of hands and 
the murder of prisoners. These are indeed 
atrocious, but is not war itself an atrocity? 
What is an atrocity but a brutality which has 



THE PEOGEESSIVE BEUTALITY OF WAE 239 

been raised to a lofty pitch, an inhumanity which 
has been given an extra twist, a barbarity which 
has been pushed still closer to the cruelty of 
hell? War sanctions lying and cheating and 
deceiving in every conceivable form. War 
exalts and glorifies the science and art of kill- 
ing. War is the legalized method by which 
international disputes are settled by killing men. 
The side that kills the largest number wins. 
All the instruments of war are created to kill 
men. Without shedding human blood no nation 
can come off victorious. In war the entire in- 
genuity of man is set to devise effective ways of 
blotting out human life. The faster men can be 
killed the sooner peace will come. If you cannot 
kill them with bullets, blow them to pieces with 
shells. If you cannot reach them with guns on 
the earth, then annihilate them by bombs 
dropped from the skies. If you cannot reach 
them with steel, then asphyxiate them with gas. 
If you cannot shed their blood on the land, then 
drown them at sea. If you cannot reach them 
by any instrument which will mangle the flesh, 
then starve them to death. War lives and 
moves and has its being in the work of killing 
men. Soldiers are trained to kill. That is 
their business. It is a critical and taxing under- 
taking, and therefore a nation must send into 
its army and navy only its strongest and best. 
The dwarfs and the hunchbacks are not 
wanted, nor are the blind and the deaf, nor the 
maimed and the crippled. War is fastidious, it 
lays its ordaining hands only on the men who 



240 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

are without blemish. It cannot use the weak- 
Hngs or defectives, the lunatics or imbeciles. It 
does not go to the asylums, but to the univer- 
sities for its recruits. This is because war is 
the business of taking human life, and to kill 
men rapidly and with certainty, soldiers must 
be young and alert and strong. 

Killing men means of course the killing of 
women, but war says: "What is that to me?" 
Every man's life is bound up with the life of at 
least one woman, sometimes with the lives of 
two women, and sometimes with the lives of 
three and four. Every man has a mother, he 
may have a sister, and also a wife, and likewise 
a daughter. When he dies there are hearts 
which are pierced. The war statisticians are 
careful to chronicle the number of killed men; 
the number of slain women is known only to 
God. When men die in action women die at 
home. Surely war is brutal. What brute is so 
furious and so heartless and so undiscriminating 
as war? 

While war from the beginning has been 
brutal. It never reached such depths of brutality 
as in the last war. This is not because men in 
the twentieth century are by nature more cruel 
than their predecessors, but Science has multi- 
plied and sharpened the instruments of destruc- 
tion. It has extended the range and the variety 
of war's brutalities. In the earliest days men 
fought with clubs and stones, later on with bows 
and arrows, still later they made themselves 
terrible by the use of javelins and spears, but 



THE PEOGEESSIVE BETJTALITY OF WAE 241 

all these are only innocent toys compared with 
the modern engines of war. Men are now killed 
by machinery. They are mown down at great 
distances. Brutality has been carried to a 
higher perfection. Physical force has been 
multiplied a million fold. War has become 
more heartless because it has lost its eyes and 
ears. Soldiers could once see their enemies. 
That is not necessary now. The worst destruc- 
tion done by the soldier is done beyond his sight. 
Officers consult the formulas of the higher 
mathematics, and of the new chemistry, and set 
loose the forces of destruction without com- 
punction. The indiscriminateness of the brute 
has become accentuated and habitual. The 
modern instruments make no distinctions. Men 
firing shells at a city seventy miles away cannot 
pick out the buildings which shall be razed or 
the individuals who shall be slain. Aviators 
dropping bombs from above the clouds cannot 
distinguish hospitals from munition factories 
or churches from arsenals. Babies in their 
cradles have no protection, and aged women on 
their death bed cannot hope for compassion. 
War has become incredibly and devilishly brutal. 
Nor is there any possible escape from this 
brutality, A nation more brutal than its neigh- 
bours has the power to drag them all down to 
its level. They must be increasingly brutal in 
order to be merciful. When Germany bombed 
unprotected towns, blowing to shreds men, 
women and children indiscriminately, the 
French and British cried out against the 



242 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

atrocity, but later on they did the same thing 
themselves. They did it on the ground that 
only by such reprisals was it possible to check 
even a little the fury of their unprincipled foe. 
When Germany first used poisonous gases her 
enemies indignantly protested. Such cruelty 
was fiendishly inhuman, and beyond the limit 
of anything allowable in civilized warfare, and 
yet the Allies later on set all their leading chem- 
ists to work to create gases still more deadly. 
The American people are by no means a cruel 
people, and yet at the close of the war we were 
manufacturing deadly gases at the rate of two 
hundred tons a day. Killing by gas shocked 
the imagination because it was new. But suffo- 
cating men by gas is not a whit worse than 
suffocating them by water as Admiral Mahan 
years ago pointed out, and drowning them is 
certainly less cruel than starving them to death. 
The method of starvation is in good and regular 
standing in the highest courts of Christendom. 
The learned judges and distinguished scholars 
who codify and interpret international law have 
never entered a protest against the infamous 
cruelty of starving a city or nation. But until 
this device of savagery is universally condemned 
and abandoned, what other hellish atrocity can 
ever be consistently arraigned on the ground of 
its cruelty? To starve thousands of men, 
women and children to death is not a whit less 
Satanic because " damned custom has so brassed 
our heart that it is proof and bulwark against 
sense." The fact that any nation calling itself 



THE PROGEESSIVE BRUTALITY OF WAR 243 

civilized can calmly announce that it has an in- 
disputable right to starve a hostile neighbour 
into submission is demonstration of the frightful 
degradation which the traditions of war have 
wrought in the human heart. War is brutal, in- 
corrigibly, everlastingly brutal, but it is only 
when its brutality takes on an unfamiliar form 
that we are stirred deeply enough to cry out in 
pain. 

But brutal as war is to-day, it will be more 
brutal to-morrow. The late war will stand in 
history as the most brutal war ever waged 
upon our planet up to the twentieth century, 
but the next war, if there be a next war, will be 
far more brutal. Science has not yet reached 
her limit in any direction. Her latest inven- 
tions are only hints of what she will produce 
later on. The submarine as it exists to-day is 
only a feeble and clumsy vessel compared with 
the submarine which the genius of man will be 
able to construct. The aeroplane of 1019 is a 
fragile and impotent toy, faintly suggesting the 
mighty fleets which will one day fill the sky. 
Chemistry is yet in her infancy. The physicist 
is only a boy in knickerbockers, the chemist is 
scarcely more than a baby. What chemistry 
did in the last war is only a suggestion of what 
chemistry will do in the next war, if next war 
there must be. There are other sciences not 
yet yoked to the war chariot which will be made 
use of if war is to be given a new lease of life. 
Bacteriology did little more than show one of 
its fingers in the last war. Who dares say what 



244 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

it might accomplish if allowed to enter with its 
full powers into the arena of destruction? It 
is clear that humanity has in its possession suf- 
ficient freedom and power to commit suicide. 
Mankind can, if it will, blot out our present 
civilization and slip back into a lower mode of 
existence. If the nations should now adopt 
again the policy of armed peace, and proceed to 
make preparations for the next war, there would 
be nothing left but a certain fearful expectation 
of judgment. Should a considerable part of the 
brain power of the leading nations of the earth 
be devoted through the coming forty years to 
the still further elaboration of the machinery 
of destruction, another war would be inevitable, 
and in that war the hope of mankind would 
perish. 

Let no one solace himself with the thought 
that there is a limit beyond which civilized men 
will not go when fighting for what they conceive 
to be their rights and liberties. There is no 
such limit. The conduct of Germany has 
demonstrated it. She believed that not only 
her prosperity but her very life was at stake, 
and believing this she was ready to trample all 
laws and traditions under her feet, and to make 
reckless use of every engine of destruction upon 
which she could lay her hand. We condemn 
her for her abominable practices, but who can 
be sure that other nations placed in a like 
position and fired with a similar belief will not 
pursue a similar course? Who with the history 
of England unrolled before him can confidently 



THE PKOGEESSIVE BRUTALITY OF WAR 245 

assert that England would not make a Von 
Tirpitz use of the submarine rather than lose 
her supremacy of the sea? And who with a 
knowledge of the American invincible spirit can 
be sure that the United States, rather than have 
Germany take possession of New York and 
Washington, would not be willing by means of 
her poisonous gases to asphyxiate the entire 
population of cities as large as Cologne and 
Dresden and Berlin? No one can say in ad- 
vance what a nation will do when with its back 
to the wall it feels it is fighting for its honour 
and its life. All talk, then, of humanizing war, 
and regulating war, and holding war within 
definite and polite limits is foolish. War is by 
nature a brute. It is more than a brute, it is a 
devil. It is because it has in it the spirit of hell 
that it is progressively and unconquerably 
heartless, and will, if not driven from the earth, 
ultimately bring man and everything he holds 
dear down to irretrievable ruin. 



XX 

THE IXDISPEXSABLENESS OF 
CHRISTIANITY 

THE New Testament assumes that with- 
out the spirit of Jesus Christ the world 
is lost. It is fundamental in the Chris- 
tian religion that God so loved the world that 
He gave His Son, and that all who believe on 
His Son shall not perish. " How shall we 
escape," asks a Christian writer of the first 
century, '' if we neglect so great salvation?" 
The greatest scholar among first century Chris- 
tians was powerfully impressed by the bank- 
ruptcy of all the agencies by which the uplifting 
of mankind had been attempted. The wisdom 
of the world had, he said, turned out to be fool- 
ishness, for the wise men had failed to ascertain 
the character and the purposes of God. The 
ancient world had been rich both in philosophy 
and religion, but none of the philosophies or re- 
ligions had been able to save mankind from 
misery and degradation, because not one of them 
had caught a full glimpse of the heart of the 
Eternal. The nature of Deity had at last been 
revealed in Jesus of Nazareth, and it was by 

246 



INDISPEXSABLENESS OF CHEISTIAKITY 247 

building up in mankind the disposition of Jesus 
that the age-long tragedy would be ended and 
the world would pass into a brighter day. 
Simon Peter, in the presence of the leading men 
of Jerusalem, expressed the conviction of all 
the apostles when he declared that in none other 
than Jesus Christ of Nazareth is there salva- 
tion, " for neither is there any other name under 
heaven that is given among men, wherein we 
must be saved." That this is so has been 
freshly illustrated and confirmed by the great 
war. The supreme lesson of the war is the m- 
dispensableness of the Christian religion. 

To the superficial observer it might seem 
that the outstanding teaching of the war is the 
impotency of the religion of Jesus. On the sur- 
face there is plausible justification for this con- 
clusion. Did not the war arise in Europe, and 
is not Europe the oldest of all the Christian 
continents? Is it not in Europe that the great- 
est of Christian cathedrals have been erected, 
and that the largest number of prayers in the 
name of Jesus have been offered? Were not 
all the earliest belligerents Christian nations, 
baptized into the name of Jesus, and confessedly 
bound to Him as their Saviour and Lord? The 
t\vo non-Christian nations which took part in 
the bloody struggle were dragged into it be- 
cause leagued with Christian powers. Is not 
Germany a Christian nation, and are not her 
rulers and teachers confessed adherents of 
Christ? How did it happen that the most furi- 
ous and cruel of all the wars was rocked in a 



248 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

Christian cradle, and came forth from a Chris- 
tian home to lay desolate a continent where the 
Bible had for centuries been an open book, and 
where the ministers of Jesus had through sixty- 
generations expounded His teachings and glori- 
fied His name? Here is a problem which every 
thoughtful mind has been obliged to face, and 
multitudes of men and women both inside and 
outside the churches have been greatly puzzled 
by it. 

The first impulse was to say that Christianity 
had failed. Sometimes it was said in sorrow 
and sometimes it was said in scorn. The 
skeptics became more skeptical, and the cynics 
became more cynical. Timorous believers were 
filled with dismay, and here and there a frail 
soul slid down into despair. It was not an easy 
time for anybody. The air was filled with ac- 
cusing voices, some mildly sarcastic and others 
bitterly abusive. The seat of the scornful was 
crowded. Men declared in loud voices that 
Christianity had failed, and that Jesus is not the 
world's Redeemer. The time had arrived, they 
said, v/hen we must look for another. Many 
Christians did not know what to think or say. 

The first reply which came to many lips was 
that other agencies had also failed. Misery 
loves company, and to look round upon other 
discredited institutions brought relief. Art had 
failed, and so had Philosophy, and so had 
Science, and so had Law, and so had Commerce, 
and so had Socialism, and so had Education, and 
so had Statesmanship. All this was only too 



INDISPEIs^SABLENESS OF CHRISTIANITY 249 

true, but it was not an answer which satisfied. 
We have a right to expect more of Christianity 
than of Philosophy or Science or Art, of Social- 
ism or Education or Law. The world is justi- 
fied in demanding more of the Church than of 
any other institution. When therefore Religion 
fails to safeguard the highest interests of man- 
kind, and when the institution which claims to 
represent God on the earth permits mankind to 
go sprawling into a ditch, the heart instinctively 
sit^ down in amazement and demands an ex- 
planation. 

Is not the explanation this? If by Christi- 
anity we mean the principles and ideals of Jesus, 
then the cause of the world catastrophe was the 
refusal of the world's rulers to apply these prhi- 
ciples. It is not fair to say that Christianity 
has failed unless Christianity has first been tried. 
Mr. Bernard Shaw was right when he said that 
Christianity is difficult and so had not been tried. 
It is not at all easy to act at all times upon 
Christian principles even in one's own private 
life. Far more difficult is it to act upon these 
principles at all times in commercial or political 
relations. As soon as we begin to Hve with 
others we are caught in the meshes of innumer- 
able entanglements and are carried oftentimes 
whither we would not go. But the difficulty 
reaches its climax in the realm of international 
relationships. Principles which seem rational 
when applied to individuals are not equally ob- 
vious when applied to large social groups. The 
principles of service and sacrifice and forgive- 



250 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

ness are easily accepted inside the walls of the 
home, but what can nations do with these in 
the wide sphere of the world's life? It is not 
surprising that many men came to the conclu- 
sion that Christian principles are not for na- 
tions but only for individuals, and that others 
tossed aside Christian principles altogether, as 
impracticable and outgrown. Surely the states- 
men of Europe have made no strenuous and 
continuous effort through the last fifty years to 
apply the principles of Jesus to international 
affairs. The old principles of the pre-Christian 
world still maintained their grip on the minds 
of men who counted themselves Christians, and 
the philosophy of Macchiavelli seemed more 
reasonable and far safer than the ideas promul- 
gated by Jesus and His apostles. The ideals of 
the Gospel were exalted in the church and the 
home: they were not enthroned in the chan- 
celleries of Europe. Europe was Christian in 
spots, but there were wide areas of her life 
which had never felt the breath of the Man of 
Galilee. She had her spiritual thinkers, but in 
the domain of practical statesmanship she was 
frankly and thoroughly materialistic. It was a 
maxim of her political philosophy that govern- 
ment is founded on force. To increase the 
power of the State was a diplomat's supreme 
ambition. Nations became known as "Powers," 
and those nations which had the hugest armies 
and navies were known as the " Great Powers." 
*' To maintain the balance of power " was the 
chief concern of State Ministers. To do this it 



INDISPENSABLENESS OF CHEISTIANITY 251 

was often necessary to have recourse to secret 
diplomacy. Things were agreed upon behind 
closed doors which were never told to the peo- 
ple. Out of a materialistic philosophy only a 
materialistic program can come. The program 
was armed peace. Every nation walked clad 
in armour. The clanking of the armour awak- 
ened suspicion and distrust. The distrust deep- 
ened into fear, and the fear hardened into hate. 
Europe was nominally Christian. She used the 
name of Jesus, and conducted worship in His 
name; but the men who moulded the policies of 
State did not do the things which Jesus com- 
mands. They said, " Lord, Lord," but they re- 
fused to do the will of their Father in heaven. 
They did not neglect the Sacrament of the 
Lord's Supper, but they were workers of in- 
iquity. Good-will is one of the fountains of life, 
but unscrupulous journalists systematically 
poisoned all the springs of international good- 
will. Cooperation is a Christian law, but states- 
men in every country trampled it under their 
feet. Friendship is a principle of national life, 
but mischief-makers in every country weakened 
the ties which bound, and made it easier for 
nations to be foes. If by Christianity we mean 
the mind of Christ, surely Christianity has never 
yet been tried on a large scale and for an ex- 
tended period in the life of any nation. Men 
have tried for centuries to get this poor old 
world of ours along by the use of every con- 
ceivable expedient except the application of the 
law of Jesus Christ. Alas, the word " Failure ** 



252 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

is written across every page. Never were such 
determined and enthusiastic efforts put forth to 
save the world from the catastrophe of war as 
within the half century preceding 1914. Every- 
thing was tried by Parliaments and Kings ex- 
cept obedience to the word of Christ, and with 
what result the world now shudders to relate. 
It has been demonstrated in the eyes of all man- 
kind that Christian principles are indispensable 
to the saving of this world. Till Jesus is recog- 
nized as King, all our political life will continue 
to be bound in shallows and in miseries. Until 
we repent, and by repentance the New Testa- 
ment means a change of mind, there is no hope 
for the world. We have been obsessed by 
theories which are false. We have accepted 
ideals which are low. We have followed leaders 
who are blind. The great war has shouted 
again in our ears the warning of the Eternal 
that unless we turn to Jesus we are lost, unless 
we take up our cross and follow Him there is 
no place for us in God's universe but the outer 
darkness where there is wailing and gnashing 
of teeth. 

That the Christian Church has not pressed 
home upon men's consciences the Christian 
principles of service and sacrifice and good-will 
with as great fidelity and passion as the times 
demanded is a confession which no Christian 
will hesitate to offer. All human agencies are 
marred by imperfections, and all institutions fall 
short of the ideal. The Church will not fail to 
grasp the lesson which the war has made start- 



INDISPEJSSABLENESS OF CHRISTIANITY 253 

lingly clear — the indispensableness of Chris- 
tianity, the absolute necessity of the spirit of 
Jesus in every one of the kingdoms of the 
world's Hfe. Nothing else will take the place of 
this, neither ritual nor creed nor miracles of 
philanthropic activity, nor superb acts of per- 
sonal devotion. There is nothing which will 
take the place of love. In the light of the great 
war Paul's sentences glow with a thrilling 
glory : " If I speak with the tongues of men and 
of angels, but have not love, I am become sound- 
ing brass, or a clanging symbol. And if I have 
the gift of prophecy and know all mysteries and 
all knowledge; and if I have all faith so as to 
remove mountains, but have not love, 1 am 
nothing. And if I bestow all my goods to feed 
the poor, and if I give my body to be burned, 
but have not love, it profiteth me nothing." 
This is as true for churches as for individuals, 
and it is as true for nations as for churches. 
The one thing indispensable for the health and 
happiness of this world is the mind of Christ; 
and the mind of Christ is the heart of God, and 
the heart of God is love. All men and churches 
and nations stand before the judgment seat of 
Christ— in other words, they are judged accord- 
ing to the measure of their love. 

If love is the one thing indispensable, we 
should not be so swift to condemn the Church 
because it did not prevent this unprecedented 
and unspeakable disaster. It is often assumed 
that the Church is in possession of powers 
which it does not have. Men too often take it 



254 WHAT THE WAR HAS TAUGHT US 

for granted that the Church can coerce men into 
courses which are right, that it can compel men 
to adopt moods which are ChristHke. The 
Church has no powers of coercion. In the 
realm of the heart the word compel is unknown. 
The will of man cannot be forced. The tides 
of the soul ebb and flow in obedience to forces 
which lie beyond the reach of monarchs and 
prelates. There was no Catholic priest strong 
enough to bend the will of Metternich, nor any 
Lutheran pastor saintly enough to change the 
heart of Wilhelm II. This ought not to sur- 
prise us. Paul was not strong enough to bend 
the will of Felix, nor was Jesus holy enough to 
change the heart of Herod. The Church is a 
divine institution, but in many fields it can do 
no mighty work because of men's unbelief. 
From many a heart it retires discomfited be- 
cause the door is shut. The will is free, and 
even the Son of God must stand patiently at 
the door until the soul decides to open it. The 
Church has not the power to break into the 
world's heart and drive out of it the demons 
w^hich have so long harassed and plagued it. It 
is not proof that Jesus was negligent or luke- 
warm because Jerusalem went steadily on to her 
destruction, nor is it proof that the ministers of 
the Christian Church were recreant to their 
trust, because the statesmen of Europe plunged 
the world into a cauldron of blood. The one 
thing which is incontestably proved is that the 
leaders of nations must accept the principles of 
Christ if they are to save mankind from destruc- 



INDISPENSABLENESS OF CHEISTIANITY 255 

tion. Christ does not offer to save men in their 
sins. In their sins it is impossible to save them. 
The Church cannot do what is beyond the 
power of the Lord Himself. It cannot save 
nations in their sins. When nations choose to 
live in an atmosphere of suspicion and envy and 
ill-will, there is no power under heaven which 
can save them. When political rulers become 
the agents of commercial greed, and manipulate 
weaker governments for their own selfish ag- 
grandizement, how can the Church save them 
from the fire which is prepared for them? 
When the leading men of a nation fall in love 
with the mailed fist, and think it glorious to 
stand in shining armour, and heartlessly im- 
poverish the common people for the upkeep of 
enormous armies and navies, the ministers of 
religion cannot be held responsible for the dis- 
aster which such foolery invites and deserves. 
Christianity is indispensable to the normal life 
of the world. It is important that it be taught, 
it is equally important that it be believed. The 
war has reminded clergymen that their supreme 
business is to proclaim the principles of brother- 
hood and good-will, and laymen that their 
crowning duty is to do what lies in their power 
to work these principles into the life of Society 
and the policy of the State. 

Too many of us have been worshipping gods 
which are idols. One of them is Science. We 
have spelled it with a capital S. We have been 
infatuated with this modern worker of miracles. 
We have allowed him to usurp the place of re- 



256 WHAT THE WAE HAS TAUGHT US 

ligion. We assumed he could put an end to 
war. He has now shown what he is able to do. 
He has given us a specimen of a scientific war. 
It is the scientific experts who have contributed 
the ingredients to form the hell-broth which 
bubbled over the rim of the cauldron and 
scalded the world. 

Another of our modern gods is Commerce. 
He has awed us by his achievements and dazzled 
us by his wealth. He has blown away the 
barriers and opened the doors, and has wrapped 
the world round with rails and wires. We now 
see he sows the seeds of new wars. He multi- 
plies the points of friction. He whets the appe- 
tite of covetousness to a keener edge. It was 
men who were eager for new markets who let 
slip the dogs of war. 

Law is another of our discredited gods. In 
our State capitals and in Washington City men 
have worked with both hands writing new 
statutes on the books, so certain have we been 
that it is through legislation we are to reach the 
promised land. At the Hague conferences in- 
ternational conventions were adopted with great 
formality and eclat, and a Palace of Peace arose 
in the Dutch capital, announcing to all the world 
that the ages of bloodshed were ended. Alas, 
treaties and conventions are only scraps of paper 
unless behind them there beat hearts which are 
true as the heart of Jesus. 

Still another of our gods has been Education. 
We have covered our land with colleges and 
schools, firm in the belief that knowledge is 



INDI9PENSABLENESS OF CHRISTIANITY 257 

power. So it is, but it is not a power which can 
banish war. Knowledge may come while wis- 
dom lingers. Knowledge puffs up; we need 
something which will build up. This war was 
born in the institutions of higher learning. 
What the world most needs is not an informed 
intellect, but a renewed heart. 

To whom then shall we go? Science cannot 
kill war, for science has not the new heart, and 
only whets the sword to a sharper edge. Com- 
merce cannot kill war, for commerce lacks the 
new heart and lifts the hunger of covetousness 
to a higher pitch. Law cannot kill war, for law 
is nothing but a willow withe tied round the 
wrists of humanity, and human nature when the 
primal passions stir themselves snaps all the 
withes asunder and carries off the gates which 
were supposed to make the city safe. Educa- 
tion cannot end war. If it is only the sharpen- 
ing of the intellect, it fits men to become ten- 
fold more masterful in all the arts of destruc- 
tion. Who will end war? 

The world has had three historic scourges: 
famine, pestilence and war. Commerce killed 
famine. By her railroads and steamships she 
killed it. It lies like a dead snake by the side of 
the road along which humanity has marched up 
to the present day. Science killed pestilence. 
The Black Plague, the Bubonic Plague, Cholera, 
Smallpox, Yellow Fever — all have received their 
death blow. These foes of mankind lie bleed- 
ing and half dead by the side of the road along 
which mankind presses on to a higher day. 



258 WHAT THE WAK HAS TAUGHT US 

Who will kill war? Not Commerce, not 
Science, nor both of them together. Only Re- 
ligion can kill war, for religion alone creates the 
new heart. Only the Christian religion can kill 
war, for only Christianity reveals to us a God 
of love. Without the religion of Jesus we are 
without hope in this world. Without God in 
Christ we are lost. 



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